


All That Glitters

by Amethyzt



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Olympics, F/M, Gen, I mean it this time, Inspired by Spinning Out (TV), Male-Female Friendship, Slow Burn, competitors to friends to lovers, figure skating AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:07:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 70,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29112054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethyzt/pseuds/Amethyzt
Summary: “The rumor mill is saying John Murphy’s looking for a new partner.”Raven thought her ice skating days were over. But when an opportunity to skate with Murphy, the son of two Olympians, presents itself, she finds herself back on the ice. It's a decision that not only would affect her career in the sport she desperately loves, but one that would set her life on a whole new journey.Or, the Murven Spinning Out AU no one asked for, but I still wrote.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Emori & John Murphy (The 100), Finn Collins/Raven Reyes, John Murphy & Raven Reyes, John Murphy/Raven Reyes, Luna/Derrick (The 100), Monty Green/Harper McIntyre, Raven Reyes/Miles Ezekiel Shaw
Comments: 76
Kudos: 80





	1. 2018: Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So before you start reading, a huge disclaimer: Raven doesn't wear a brace in this story. Her spinal injury doesn't exist. By making this choice, I am in no way trying to offend anybody, and if this is something that you cannot overlook, I ask you to bypass this fic and read any of my other stories, all of which keep that part of Raven's canonical story. 
> 
> Now that's out of the way, I really wanted to write this story. I told myself I needed to finish my WIP first, but my muse ran away from me. If you haven't seen Spinning Out on Netflix, I highly recommend you do because it's a good show (even though it got canceled after one season), but you don't need to in order to read this fic. Only one scene is really inspired from the TV show, and everything from that point on is my own take of what a Raven/Murphy pair skating team would look like.
> 
> I hope you love it!

_April 2018_

Even though it’s been a year since Raven gave up ice skating, she still comes to the rink every single day.

Partly because of habit, one she can’t shake after 17 years of spending ungodly amounts of hours on the ice, and partly because she now works full-time with Sinclair at the onsite gear rental store, so she doesn’t go totally out of her way by starting off her mornings watching her friends — and a few former foes— complete near-perfect triple axels and looping curves around the freshly-resurfaced ice. She feels a sense of pride when she sees Bellamy lift Clarke up by her waist, making her look weightless and regal. They came close to qualifying for the Olympics in PyeongChang this year, and it was clear in the months since that they had their eye on Beijing for 2022.

Raven tries to quell the bubble of jealousy inside her. It’s nothing against Bellamy or Clarke — they were beautiful skaters, a pair made in heaven, really. They worked hard and it showed. Raven just wished she could be right down there with them.

She chews her blueberry muffin, careful not to get crumbs all over the bleachers. The rink is full for a Wednesday, she thinks. Not unusual for an Olympic year. Seeing the elaborate routines and glittering medals adorning expensive beaded costumes motivates the local members of the Polis Skating Club to spend more time practicing, something that will taper out after the coming winter season when the pressure of the sport weeds out the least committed.

Her eyes wander from Bellamy and Clarke to Murphy and Emori, another pair of longtime competitors. In fact, they’ve been skating together longer than Bellamy and Clarke’s three-year-run. They joined Polis four years ago, but Raven remembers first seeing them compete at Sectionals two years before that. How could one forget Murphy? If his striking face didn’t burn a hole in your mind, his endless sarcasm and rapid-fire sass would.

It’s funny, because off the ice, no one would be able to guess Murphy was a figure skater, no less a pairs skater. He gave off a vibe that he couldn’t care less for any one thing in the world, but Raven’s watched him long enough — especially now that she’s been off the ice — to know that was just a front. You don’t almost qualify for Team USA if you don’t give two shits.

In the figure skating community, Murphy was infamous for two things: 1) his insolence, which didn’t make him many friends, and 2) his parents grisly murder. According to old newspaper articles, his parents, past Olympic bronze medalists in the pairs division, had been shot to death in their hotel room after they competed in Skate America 2004, an already tarnished event after a Russian skater's particularly bad fall and concussion.

Murphy, 7 years old at the time, had been home sick with his grandparents. His flu probably saved his life.

She watches as he lifts Emori with just their palms, her weight perfectly balanced with her legs outstretched in the air. They spin around on the ice, and he lowers her carefully, all without missing a step.

Her attention is diverted to the other side of the rink when she sees one of the kids lose their footing and fall hard on their hip. It’s 7-year-old Ethan, new to the club, but quickly becoming a promising skater. Raven winces when he gets back up, rubbing on his side where a blooming purple-red bruise is bound to show up in the next few hours.

With her focus elsewhere, she misses what causes the accident. An ear-splitting cry of pain fills the air, and all the skaters stop in their tracks. It doesn’t take long for Raven, even from her position high in the bleachers, to find the hurt skater.

Emori, near the left edge of the rink. It looks like her legs are crossed at the ankles, but Raven knows better than that. She rushes down the stairs to see what’s going on, along with several other parents and coaches. Once at the glass barrier, she can see drops of blood on the ice — their scarlet color glaringly obvious against the frosty surface. Murphy is fretting over her, wild-eyed and uttering praises of comfort. But there’s only so much one can say to you when your own ice skate is buried at the top of your foot.

Their coach, a tall svelte woman with golden brown curls, waves him back, instructing him to carry Emori out of the ice with urgency. Bellamy is already off the ice calling 911. Raven puts a hand to her mouth as she watches Murphy gingerly lift Emori out of the ice, trying to jostle her feet as little as possible.

“It went right through her boot,” he tells his coach, panic clear in his voice. His hands are trembling as he lays her down on a bench, his coach yelling to give them space.

The sight of the crimson blood staining the top of Emori’s ice skate, never mind the twin blade embedded in it, is too much for Raven. Her stomach turns and she suddenly feels dizzy. She backtracks into the exit of the ice rink, tossing her half-eaten muffin in the trash before fleeing far away from the commotion.

* * *

Murphy and Emori are missing from the ice rink the next morning. There are rumors swirling around that Emori has quit the sport for good, but Raven doesn’t pay them much mind. All kinds of nonsense is made up when a skater gets injured. No matter how painful, a blade to the foot isn’t career-ending.

Absentmindedly, she touches the long jagged scar on the side of her head, hidden by her hair, but Raven can find it by heart. She’s traced it enough times, cried about it enough, to never forget its presence.

And yet, even her injury wasn’t career-ending. It was what developed afterward.

She clears that terrible memory from her mind, concentrating at the task at hand: outfitting this five-year-old girl for her very first skating lesson.

“How do these feel?” she asks the girl, who wriggles her little feet in the air. “Too tight?”

Her mother, whom Raven can already tell by her demeanor is a former ice skater herself, keeps them both under her watchful gaze. Raven helps the girl stand up, the bright pink skate guards covering the blades bringing her immediate delight. The girl holds on tight to her hands as she wobbles on the brown carpet.

After making sure her skates fit her properly, Raven sends them on their way. She types up the details of the rental on the computer, and takes a moment to catch up on inventory afterward since her next fitting appointment isn’t for another hour.

That’s not to say she doesn’t have customers in between. It’s the tail end of winter season at the ski resort, but March often brings in a healthy share of families on spring break. These rentals are different though. Vacationers don’t care, nor generally have any knowledge about the equipment they’re renting. Most just want to experience a bit of fun for a day, and while some are headed on their first ski or snowboarding lesson, unlike the little girl, it’s for leisure rather than marking the beginning of a long athletic career.

The door to the back office opens and out comes Sinclair, chewing on a pen as he peers intently into a clipboard.

“Reyes, did we get that new shipment of Kastle skis in yet?”

“Not yet, they’re set to come in tomorrow morning.”

Sinclair curses under his breath. “I really needed those this afternoon. If they get here too late tomorrow, we won’t be able to show them during the expo.”

“Relax, they’ll be here in time. Besides, even if they show up late, the events center is just down the road — I’m sure I can run them to you in a matter of minutes.”

He taps on his clipboard with his pen, appraising the store for the first time that day. After a beat, he turns to her. “Did you hear about what happened yesterday at the rink? Emori D’Oliveira—tripped on the ice and drove her own blade into her foot.”

Raven sighs, continuing to update the online inventory on their website. “I didn’t have to hear about it. I was there. Talk about a freak accident. Thankfully, it was early enough that most of the kids weren’t there to see it.”

“The rumor mill is saying John Murphy’s looking for a new partner.”

“Since when do you listen to rumors?” Raven says, her brow arched. “Besides, that’s all a load of bullshit. They’ve been skating together for ages.”

He lays the clipboard on the counter, looking pensive. “Maybe, but rumor or not, it’s not every day there's a chance a pair skater like him finds himself in need of another half.”

Raven chews on the inside of her cheek, a bit annoyed at the fact he of all people was bringing this up to her. “And what difference does that make?”

“You and I both know you’re wasting your talents helping me run the store,” he says. “You should be out there on the ice.”

“Sinclair, you know I _can’t._ ” She hopes her tone reflects the finality in her conviction. 

He kisses his teeth at this, a sentiment he’s heard probably a million times since her injury. He shrugs his shoulders, his eyebrows high up on his forehead in a look that oozes poorly-concealed disappointment. The bell above the store entrance rings as new customers enter. 

"Besides, I've been helping you around the store since I was old enough to wax snowboards on my own," she adds, waving the customer in with her trademark smile.

She almost thinks that marked the end of that conversation, but he hears him whisper one last sentence before disappearing into the back.

“The Raven Reyes I knew never gave up."

* * *

Raven runs into Harper at the rink a few days later. Her shift at the outfitters is starting in less than 20 minutes, but her friend rarely comes to the rink anymore. They used to see each other daily, used to commiserate their ungodly early starts over black coffee and leg stretches before warming up on the ice.

Harper stuck around Polis after high school, but quit skating to pursue a nursing degree at the nearby Boise State University. It’s where she met her boyfriend Monty, and now that she was in her final semester, Raven seldom saw much of her.

So seeing her at the rink is worth being late to work. It’s not like Sinclair will even notice.

“What are you doing here?” Raven asks after they hug. “I mean, I’m glad to see you, but I thought you left early mornings behind.”

“I wish,” Harper says. “My new rotation in pediatrics has me working the first shift.” They take a seat at a bench in the lobby of the rink. “Today’s my day off actually. Something told me I’d find you here.”

“I’m that predictable, huh?”

“Only because I know you so well.”

They chat about her schoolwork, the cute kids she’s met in her new rotations, how glad she is to have left obstetrics — “I’m never having kids Raven,” she tells her. “Ever.” — and eventually the conversation circles back to her.

“You know, instead of watching, you should be out there on the ice,” Harper says.

“Well, no one wants a partner that can’t do lifts,” Raven says. “And I’m not talented enough to be a single skater.”

“I heard Murphy’s on the lookout for a new partner.”

Raven laughs incredulously at this. “Oh god, not you too. How in the world did you hear that shit anyway?”

“I’m on Instagram,” she says, shaking her iPhone. “I follow Emori. She posted a photo of her at the hospital with a pretty lengthy caption. Seemed like a farewell to me.”

Harper doesn’t linger on the topic much after that. Perhaps she thought that planting a seed of doubt in Raven’s previously unwavering belief that Emori would never quit was enough. Or maybe she didn’t come to see her with this ulterior motive of bringing up her skating. Either way, the damage was done.

Curiosity eventually gets the better of her as Raven scrolls through Emori’s Instagram when she gets her first break in customers. She first reads the infamous caption on Emori's hospital post, a picture of her in a hospital robe sitting on a patient bed with Murphy at her side, her left foot bandaged. She’s giving a thumbs up.

_Took a tumble this morning on the ice, but I’m forever grateful to have this wonderful man at my side. No skater could ever ask for a better partner, and no girl could ever ask for a better boyfriend. Through thick and thin, skates or no skates. These past six years have been a dream @callmemurphy. No matter what, I’ll always be your #1 cheerleader. #seeyouinBeijing_

Scrolling to the comments, she sees Murphy replied: _Forgive her sentimentalism, she’s on painkillers._ Not very insightful, but very on brand with the little she knows of him.

Her eyes go back to Emori’s caption, lingering on the way she worded the hashtag. Surely, if she meant to continue skating with Murphy she would have written something more along the lines of them seeing Beijing together in 2022. Not, see _you_ in Beijing. That along with the cheerleader comment made the rumors seem all the more plausible.

Not that it changed anything.

* * *

The bell above the front door of the store chimes.

“I’ll be with you in just a minute,” Raven calls from her spot on the floor. A group of amateur skiers came in earlier and left quite a mess in their boot fitting area, and she’s spent the last half hour putting everything back where it belonged. If only people would trust her when it came to her knowledge of sizing, and most did, but there were always a few that claimed to know best and wanted to try on half the boots in the store.

She heaves herself back onto her feet, only to stumble when she sees who is waiting for her at the check-out counter.

Murphy and Emori’s coach is young, somewhere in her mid-thirties Raven supposes. An Olympic gold medalist, Luna Hilker was a celebrity in their small resort town. She moved with Murphy and Emori, having been their coach since childhood basically, and several of the more intense skater moms tried to get her to coach their kids on the ice. Some succeeded, but Luna only ever took a handful of kids under her wing and it was clear to many that Murphy and Emori were her top priority.

“Hi,” Raven says, dragging out the vowel in surprise. “How can I help you?”

Luna waits until Raven is back behind the counter. She appraises her in a way that makes Raven wary. It reminds her of the way her first coach used to scan her body once she and Finn advanced to the intermediate levels of skating, looking to make sure she didn’t gain any added weight despite her genetics kickstarting her body’s maturity. Diana Sydney frowned for an entire month when she noticed Raven's breasts and hips had filled in.

Whatever Luna was vetting, Raven must have passed because the woman’s lips quirk in a slight smile. “Xcel Energy Center, St Paul, Minnesota,” she says. “You and your partner skated to Shostakovich for your long program — the second movement in his piano concerto no. 2. A bold choice in a year full of Taylor Swift and Adele.”

“I’m a sucker for Russian composers,” Raven says. Finn wasn’t — he was always pushing for more modern songs, catchier for the judges, he used to say. Thankfully, Diana generally sided with her.

“You were magic on that ice. The way you glided, your landings flawless, like you weighed no more than a feather.”

That was her last competition before her fall — Nationals. Raven’s memory might be skewed because of that, but she is inclined to agree with her. That was probably the best skate she’s ever had in her life. She and Finn came just short of qualifying for Worlds, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t an Olympic year, and they thought that 2018 would be their time to shine. Plus, they were headed to Skate America; they had already received their invitation.

“You know what boggles my mind?” Luna asks. “It’s not that you quit, but that you still come to the rink every day. Yet, you don’t put on a pair of skates. Why?”

Raven doesn’t have a good answer. “Force of habit, I guess.”

Luna squints at her, and after a beat, one that almost made Raven too uncomfortable, she says, “Tomorrow, 5 a.m. Bring your skates.”

With that, the woman spins around on her heels, leaving Raven equal parts confused and scared.

Even so, she does what she asks. If Luna wanted to see her in skates, she was going to show up in skates. Refusing her would be as crazy as declining an offer to have tea with the Queen of England. 

The next morning, she’s at the rink as soon as the security guard opens the door to the arena. For the first time in a year, she’s dragging her little black rolling suitcase behind her. The security guard’s eyebrows jump at this. She’s sure the gossip will reach the mom circle later this morning.

Luna walks in a few minutes after her, finding her sitting at a bench by the entrance to the rink. Raven’s already laced up her skates, and the feeling of them on her feet is strange and comforting at the same time, like an embrace from a friend you haven’t seen in a while but missed desperately. Luna gestures for her to get on the ice, but Raven has pressing questions before they go any further.

“What do you want from me? Why am I here?’

“Isn't it obvious? I want to see you skate,” Luna says. “As to why you’re here, you tell me.”

“But you were the one that asked me to come.”

Luna smiles as she leans over the ice rink barrier. “And you came. Reliable, that’s good.” She waves at the ice, clean and crisp from last night’s resurfacing. “Now, go skate.”

Raven holds back a huff of frustration, never liking being in the dark. But it was clear that the only way she was going to get answers was to get on the freaking ice.

There were worse ways to get information, she thinks. The minute her blades scrape across the ice, Raven feels the world melt away from her. It doesn’t matter that Luna is eyeing her every move, nor that a couple of the other skaters are starting to come in to warm up before their morning sessions. It’s just her and the ice.

Raven wasn’t afraid to skate after her accident. Hell, she wasn’t afraid to jump either. When she skated, she was in full control of every movement in her body. Of course, she wasn’t stupid — there was no part of her that was willing to attempt a triple lutz after a year off the ice. She kept her skating simple, figure eights across the ice and a few camel positions to show she still had balance.

Her concentration is broken when Luna calls out, “Give me a double salchow.”

The rink falls silent, and Raven realizes that not only is she the only on the ice, but people are staring at her. She spots Bellamy gaping at her from across the rink where he’s stretching his legs on the barre.

The salchow is not an overly difficult jump compared to others. There are children that will be on this rink later today that could do one in their sleep.

But having been off the ice for so long, Raven isn’t confident. She wonders if Luna just wants to see her fall. She steels herself, glad she at least wore a thick pair of leggings, and goes for it, rounding around the ice as she gets into the correct position.

Her heart skips a beat when she jumps, and even though her body does everything it’s supposed to, including landing on the right foot (albeit very, very wobbly), Raven completes only one revolution.

Luna isn’t impressed.

“I said a double. But at least I know you can still jump.” Luna waves her back in. Raven is panting, the exertion from that one jump making it obvious the year off the ice has killed her stamina.

“We’re done here for today,” Luna says. “Take off your skates and come with me. We have much to discuss and I’d rather do it over breakfast.”

* * *

Luna drives her to a small diner near the ski resort. Raven’s eaten there before — everyone with the Polis Skating Club has. Silo’s has been a cornerstone of Polis for as long as she can remember. Raven has spent many a night celebrating test results and enjoying the rare strawberry milkshake after the annual ice show. But even the familiarity of the place couldn’t prepare her for the sight of the person sitting in the booth to the rear of the restaurant.

Raven wasn’t an idiot. She knew Luna had come to her with an ulterior motive, why else would she want to watch her skate? So logically, she knew he would be at the diner. However, seeing it all unfold in front of her was something else entirely.

Murphy looks unimpressed when she and Luna slide in the booth across from him.

“Her?” he says, pointing his finger at her, his hand resting on the table. “You want _me_ to skate with _her_?” He scoffs and leans back to drape his arm across the back of the seat. “This should be interesting.”

“Good morning to you too,” Raven mutters under her breath.

The waitress comes around and pours black coffee into their three porcelain mugs, informing them she’d be back in a few minutes to take their order. Luna nods at her in thanks.

When they are left alone, Raven asks the question that has plagued her, and most of the gossips around the rink, for a week. “So Emori is… ?”

“She quit,” Luna says. Raven tries to gauge Murphy’s reaction, but he is purposely fixated on a ceiling tile.

“Her injury was that bad?”

“She’d been thinking of quitting for a while.” This time, Murphy snorts in protest, but Luna ignores him. “The skate tore a tendon in her foot. She’s going to need surgery and a few months of rehab, and Emori felt like it was her time.”

There was more to the story, Raven was sure of it. But Murphy didn’t look like he was going to offer any more information about his girlfriend’s decision, and Luna seemed to think that was enough of an explanation overall. Other skaters in Raven’s position would be jumping at the chance to partner up with Murphy, who along with Emori, had just gone to Worlds in Milan. Strong contenders for the Olympics in Beijing, and Raven wonders why the hell Emori would throw that away.

They order breakfast, and she is surprised that Murphy goes for the stuffed French toast with a side of bacon. A lot of carbs on that plate, especially compared to her scrambled eggs and whole wheat toast, but whatever powered him through his skating sessions, she supposes.

She picks at her eggs. “Why me?”

“Good question,” Murphy says, and she’s already starting to get irritated at his little passive-aggressive comments.

“Like I said yesterday, you are magic on the ice,” Luna responds. “I happen to think losing the deadweight was a good thing, despite the horrific way it happened.”

The dig at Finn doesn’t irk her as much as she thought it would. It’s been months since she’s heard from him. Following her accident, once it became clear that they no longer worked as pairs on the ice, he moved on. He’s now skating with some petite redhead named Amber in Boise. 

“Except, I can’t do lifts,” she says.

“I don’t believe that.”

Murphy waves his fork in the air, the syrup falling in droplets over the table. “I do. She wouldn’t let Collins lift her up a half inch on the ice. What makes you think things with me will be different?”

“Because I have full confidence you’re not gonna drop her,” Luna says coolly.

Just hearing the word “drop” is slightly triggering. She can’t help thinking about it, about how one minute she was perfectly balanced in the air, Finn’s hand securely holding her up by the hip, hers holding on to his shoulder, and then the next minute, she was diving headfirst into the ice.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Raven is a risk,” Luna says to Murphy. “It’s going to take a lot out of both of you, but I know for a fact that if we get you both to where you need to be in the next couple of years, you will be competing in the Olympics in 2022.”

“She hasn’t even been on the ice in ages. All she does is watch.”

“She was this morning.”

Murphy seems taken aback at this, and for what feels like the first time, he looks at her — really, looks at her. “You skated?”

“Can’t say no to Luna, can you?”

He looks like he wants to smile at this, but he doesn’t. He sets his jaw and turns back to his coach. “And what if Emori changes her mind?”

“John, you know she’s not going to.” Luna says this softly, but he still flinches.

He seems visibly torn, almost as if the reality that he is, indeed, in need of a new partner is hitting him for the first time. Raven recognizes that look, one of bewilderment and anxiety. Pairs skating was not like individual figure skating, or even ice dancing. In order to succeed, partners have to be totally in synch with one another. Their lives, literally, depended on it. 

You couldn't partner with just anybody.

Murphy’s fork clatters on the plate. He gathers his coat and slides out of the bench as Luna asks him where the hell he thinks he’s going.

“I can’t… I can’t do this right now,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

Raven watches him walk away, a strange feeling in her chest. While she had watched Murphy skate numerous times, they have never had an individual interaction. She didn’t know him well, or at all really, but in that moment, she saw a bit of herself. It was disconcerting.

She moves her eggs around in her plate. Clearly, Murphy didn’t want to partner up with her. How could she trust him? 

“I don’t think I’m who you’re looking for,” she tells Luna.

Luna takes a long sip of her coffee. “I think you’re wrong, but I’m also not going to beg. I just think it would be a real shame if you spent the rest of your life watching everybody else live your dream.”

A knot forms at Raven's throat, and she juts out her chin defiantly. “You don’t know what my dreams are.”

Luna smirks a little over her cup, the steam drifting up in the air in dancing rivulets. “If it wasn’t skating, you’d have quit coming to the rink a long time ago.”

* * *

Raven needs someone to talk to. Sitting at home that night, clad in a comfortable pair of grey sweatpants and her favorite sweater to keep her warm despite the snow raging outside, she can’t help but wonder if turning Luna down was crazy.

She thought she had given skating up, but she also knows that in the back of her mind, she always hoped she’d find her way back on the ice — someway, somehow. After she recovered from her fall, and it became clear that she would never be able to skate with Finn again, she had tried to make it as a solo figure skater.

But there was a reason she had gone into pairs in the first place. Raven wasn’t a strong jumper. Sure, (back when she regularly skated) she could do a triple lutz here and there, and her combination jumps were generally okay, but you needed to be more than just decent at jumping in the figure skating world. For every jump you popped, there was another skater who could do toe loops in their sleep.

Now, here she had an amazing second chance handed to her on a platter, and she said no. Her mother must be turning in her grave.

She flips the switch on her electric fireplace and curls up on her couch. She grabs her phone and rings Harper, who picks up on the third ring.

“Oh thank god you called,” she says. “I’m up to my eyeballs in practice tests for my licensing exam. I could use a break.”

“Happy to be a distraction,” Raven says as she tucks her legs underneath her.

She proceeds to tell Harper about everything that had occurred in the last 24 hours. Harper is a good listener, she only speaks up to nudge Raven along with the story when she fell silent, but she also wasn’t shy to share her opinions. And that opinion was that Raven was making a mistake.

“You're literally crazy. You can’t pass this up,” she insists. “It’s fate.”

Fate? That was a bit much, Raven thought. Harper has always been superstitious. “He doesn’t even want to skate with me.”

“I’d be worried if he was enthusiastic,” Harper says. “Honestly, he’s been skating with Emori from the start, I think. They’re dating. Of course he doesn’t want a new partner, but that doesn’t mean anything. If Emori quit, he’ll have to get a new one anyway. Unless he also plans on quitting.”

Raven recalls the way he stormed out of the diner. “Always a possibility.”

There’s sharp knock on her front door, and she stands up from the couch. Harper continues to tell her she needs to talk to Luna as soon as possible and accept the offer before she extends it to another skater that won’t hesitate, and Raven peers through the peephole to see who is there. Her eyes widen when she sees Murphy, standing with his arms crossed at the entrance to her townhome.

“Hey Harper? I’m gonna have to call you back.” They say a quick goodbye and Raven opens the door.

“Hi,” she says hesitantly. “What are you doing here?”

He gestures to the inside of her house, and taking note of the frigid temperature, she waves him inside. He doesn’t take off his coat, so he must not be planning to stay awhile. Raven is nothing but a good host though, so she still offers him a cup of coffee, which he declines. She decides to make a pot anyway, and he follows her into her small galley kitchen.

“Listen, I just wanted to stop by and apologize,” he says. “About this morning. I was a jackass.”

She scoops a few spoonfuls of Folgers into her old coffee machine. “You were,” she says as she pours in some water. “But it’s fine. I know I’m not exactly an ideal choice for a partner at the moment.”

He scratches at his neck. “Not sure if this makes it better, or if it makes me look like more of an ass, but I probably would’ve treated anybody Luna brought to meet me the same way this morning.”

She snorts. “Comforting.”

He takes a seat the counter, though that means he has to crouch a bit to see her from underneath the hanging cabinets. “For the record, you are the ideal choice for a partner.”

The coffee pot bubbles as it begins to brew. She can’t help but laugh, a bit bitterly, at his claim. “I have a hard time believing that.”

“You’re a phenomenal skater,” Murphy says. “At least you were. Luna says that you still got it, even if you’re in desperate need of training.”

“You’re doing a great job at convincing me.”

He ignores her. “We can work on the lifts. Luna says she can fix you.”

“Right well Luna can work whatever magic she thinks she has, but at the end of the day, she’s not the one that will be tossed and hurled into the air like a fucking hacky sack.”

Murphy laughs. The coffee stops brewing and she pours him a cup. He uses it to warm his hands, still pink from the below-freezing temperatures. Raven opens her fridge and brings out some half-and-half, but he declines. He drinks his coffee black. Raven can respect that. She pours cream and sugar into hers.

With the warm cup in her hand, she leans over the counter. Once she straightens back up, she’ll have to remember not to bump her head in the cabinets.

“You know that as soon as the word gets out, you’ll have more than a few figure skaters lining up to be your partner.”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he sips the coffee he didn’t want, and examines the magnets on her fridge. One holds up a photo of her and Finn during Nationals in 2015 — A good skating year for them.

The silence stretches for about a minute, and when Murphy does speak, his voice is resolute.

“I won’t ever let you fall,” he says, and then winces and holds up a cautionary finger. “Actually, you will fall. A lot — because all skaters fucking faceplant and eat it on the ice constantly. But I can promise that if I’m holding you up, you will never fall on that ice.”

“Murphy—"

“Unless I’m dead really, I won’t drop you,” he interrupts, a wolfish grin on his face. “Dead, like you decapitated me with your skates.”

She rolls her eyes at his absurdity. “You know skates are not that sharp.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about, is there?” He stands up, makes for the front door and she follows him. He was just going to leave like that?

“You haven’t even finished your coffee.” But he was still holding the cup.

“Monday’s practice session starts at 6. I’ll give you back your mug then.” With that, he lets himself out and Raven is left standing alone in her living room.

* * *

Raven mulls over it all weekend. She weighs the pros and cons, (Pro, she’d be back on the ice; Con, she’d be putting her trust in yet another man, someone she barely knew, and that man was John Fucking Murphy) she talks to Harper, she talks to Sinclair and finally, she even calls her former coach.

Diana Sydney was a difficult woman. Raven never liked her very much, but you didn’t have to like someone for them to be your coach. Diana was relentless in monitoring every aspect of Raven’s skating — her diet, her weight, her friendships… It was clear that in her pair, Finn was very much her favorite. So it came as no surprise that, when Finn left town, so did Diana Sydney.

She asked for her honest opinion, framing it as a former mentee seeking wisdom. Diana Sydney asked her for details, and Raven reluctantly gave them. While at first she seemed a bit apathetic, her tone of voice changed when Raven informed her it was Murphy who she would be skating with.

“Oh honey, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says, her voice dripping in faux sweetness. “No, no that pairing just wouldn’t be _beneficial_.”

And inadvertently, Diana tells her exactly what she needed to hear. If she was concerned about Raven pairing up with Murphy, then maybe Luna wasn’t crazy. Maybe… there could be something there.

Her alarm startles her awake at exactly 4:30 a.m. She gets up, sluggishly, and prepares for her first official skating session in a year. She makes herself coffee, boils a couple eggs and wolfs them down along with a slice of high-protein toast and a handful of blueberries.

She’s shivering when she arrives at the arena, and not just from the cold. Her short skating stint with Luna wasn’t anything serious, but this session would be. It meant she was committing herself as Murphy’s partner for at least the next four years.

He’s waiting for her in the warm-up room. If he’s relieved that she’s actually showed up, he doesn’t show it. He does smirk to himself, however.

“Knew you couldn’t resist,” he says.

Raven ignores him and begins to stretch.

They arrive together to the rink and Luna, like Murphy, doesn’t show much emotion. She did say she wasn’t going to beg, but Raven expected some sort of acknowledgement. Instead, she launches into a short spiel as to what they should both expect for the next few of months.

“No competitions this year, which I’m sure will come at no surprise,” she says. “What we will focus on from now until the start of the next competition season is passing your senior test and making sure you guys are in complete synchronization with each other. I want to see you move together, jump together, hell — I want to see you breathe in synch. No matter what level of competition, there will be pairs that have been together longer than you both. We have to make your connection a strength.”

Raven nods at this, thinking to herself that it would be easier said than done. She and Finn skated together for seven years and still struggled with their connection on the ice. 

“Next, Raven you’ll be joining Murphy’s ballet class, three times a week. We will train every morning from 6-10 a.m. before you both have to go to work — two hours on the ice, and two hours off the ice.”

The amount of stress that she’s sure she will be under from now on should be daunting. Instead, Raven feels exhilarated. She’s _missed_ this.

Luna tells them to go on the ice, where they will begin learning how to skate together, hands clasped, but after they take their skate guards off, Raven grabs Murphy’s elbow. Luna’s back in turned to them — another coach has approached her.

“What’s up?” he says. “Chickening out on me already?”

“I need you to promise me something,” Raven says.

He raises his eyebrows. “I already told you I’m not gonna drop you, and besides we’re just—”

“No, it’s not that,” she says, cutting him off. “Just — promise me we will never go on that ice mad at each other.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “Raven, we’re bound to be pissed off at each other at some point.”

“I know, but…” She sighs. “Just please... Promise me.”

He shrugs, and she can tell he doesn’t fully understand why this means so much to her, which was fine. He didn’t need to understand. He just needed to promise.

“Okay,” he says, more to appease her than anything. “I promise.” He holds his hand out to her.

She lets out a breath, nods once, and takes his hand.

* * *

_May 2018_

Skating with Murphy is… an experience.

He’s a man made up of contradictions, she finds. Patient, but insistent. Supportive, but quick to point out mistakes. Talented — very much so — but if left unsupervised, the first to mess around on the ice.

And most of all, he toed the line of encouraging her while never missing out on the chance to crack jokes at her expense. It drove Raven absolutely insane.

For those first weeks, she spent more time falling on her ass than actually skating, it seemed like. While muscle memory was a thing, and she remembered how to execute axels and salchows and lutzes, they were nowhere near as clean as they once were. She could jump, but her landings were awful. Hence, the time spent on her ass, and after practice and work, taking nice long Epsom salt baths.

Not to mention that she was perpetually sore from the ballet classes as well. Raven remembered very quickly why she detested ballet.

Luna hasn’t even had them practicing lifts either. The road ahead was a long one, and it seemed infinite on the days Murphy was especially annoying.

Today was one of those days. Luna has them working on their sit spins, which have to be perfectly in synch with one another in order for the judges (in both their senior test and competition, once they get there) not to dock them points on technicality.

Raven loses her balance on the second revolution and lands hard on the side of her hip. “God-fucking-damnit, I almost had it.”

“Mind the little ears, sailor Reyes,” Murphy says as he stops spinning beside her. He holds his hand out to her and she reluctantly takes it. “Keep going like that and Luna will be forced to carry a swear jar.”

“Shut up,” she huffs at him, rubbing at her hip.

From the sidelines, Luna tells them to go again. They join hands and begin to skate in tandem.

Left. Right. Left. Right. Building momentum as they skate around the rink until they arrive at the chosen spot to do a side-by-side sit spin. This time, Raven completes all three revolutions, and Luna claps, signaling she’s pleased.

She waves them back in. “Good,” she says. “Let’s move to the mats.”

“You think we’re moving on to lifts today?” Raven asks Murphy. She poses the same question every time Luna calls them off the ice.

“You sound thrilled as always at the prospect of my hands all over you,” he responds drily.

Raven snorts, carefully stepping out of the ice once she has her guards on. “Thanks, but I have enough bruises as it is.”

“Not the fun kind,” he says, smirking when she throws a disgusted look his way.

As they start to leave the ice, the speakers begin playing a waltz, and Raven whips her head back to see Bellamy and Clarke run their program for the upcoming Grand Prix. She stops to watch them, examining the way they moved together on the ice. They have a lift early on, Raven knows from watching them in the mornings before her return to the sport. Bellamy picks Clarke up by the waist effortlessly, tossing her in the air in a manner that makes her look weightless. She lands perfectly in an arabesque position.

Murphy tugs on her arm. “C’mon, Luna is waiting.”

Luna coaches them through another hour of exercise — they do some weights, a little bit of cardio and flexibility exercises. She then leaves them to their own devices, and Raven and Murphy run a mile on a treadmill. They don’t speak to each other, but Raven has to admit it’s nice to workout alongside someone else. Finn was always a complainer, on and off the ice, and Raven thanks God Murphy, for as much of a smartass he is, doesn’t complain much.

After training, they part ways at the locker rooms, where Raven showers quickly and changes into her work uniform of jeans and a blue polo with “Jacapo Outfitters” stitched on the breast. She’s brushing her hair back into a ponytail when someone appears behind her on the mirror.

Raven is shocked to see Emori, still in her crutches.

Awkward, Raven thinks. So awkward.

She spins around, mustering up a smile. “Hi.”

Emori gives her a little half-wave, her hand only momentarily abandoning her hold on the crutch. After a pregnant pause, they both laugh, nervously. “I know this is extremely weird,” Emori says. “Are you running off to work?”

Raven checks her watch. “I have a little time.”

They make their way to a picnic table outside the arena. The snow having fully melted away at the end of April, these last few days were finally starting to feel like spring, even as high up as they were in the mountain range. Raven spots a few wild sunflowers starting to bloom in the surviving grassy areas.

“I’m really glad it’s you,” Emori says. “You deserve to be on that ice.”

That was kind of her to say. Raven smiles at her in thanks. “I know we don’t know each other very well, but I have to ask… Why did you quit? You and Murphy were so good together on the ice.”

Emori nods slowly, and follows it up with a shrug of her shoulders. “If I would have had it my way, I would’ve quit four years ago. Don’t get me wrong, I love skating,” she says quickly. “But I never wanted skating to be, you know, my profession.”

Raven immediately thinks of Harper, and she understands. You can love a sport and want to do something else with your life. “So why’d you keep going?” Emori tilts her head to the side, a knowing look in her eyes and Raven immediately guesses why. “Of course,” Raven says. “For him.”

“He deserves a partner that will give him 110% on the ice every skate. I hadn’t done that in a long, long time.” She nods resolutely. “I think Murphy knows you’re exactly what he needs.”

“And what’s that?”

Emori grins. “Ask me again in four years.”

* * *

Towards the end of the month, Luna switches up their ice time, and Raven knows — she feels it as soon as she walks into the training room.

It’s time to start working on lifts.

Her heart begins to race in her chest. Her palms grow sweaty. She wipes them on her leggings.

For his part, Murphy appears unnerved. He’s probably relieved to finally be moving on to the next stage of training. If he was still partnered up with Emori, he wouldn’t be relearning basic moves. They’d be in the middle of learning their short program for Sectionals.

Luna types something into her phone as they stand in front of her on the training mats. She clicks the volume up, and a flute melody, folksy and a little forlorn, plays for a few seconds before an orchestra of violins fade in.

“Outlander?” Murphy says, snorting when he sees Luna’s raised eyebrow.

Raven is baffled he could pick out the tune. She’s never watched the show herself though, so she had no chance of guessing right.

“You may not be competing this year, but you still need to participate in the club’s ice show in September. You’ll be skating to this.”

“I’m not wearing a kilt.”

“Don’t worry Murphy, no one in the ISU wants to see you in a skirt,” Raven says.

Luna gives them both a look that shuts them up instantly. “There’s a reason I picked this song for you both.” She puts her phone back in her pocket. “It’s romantic—passionate, yet tender. Three qualities you need to display on the ice for competition if you ever want to make it past Nationals.” She points at Murphy. “What’s the reason American skaters are so often obliterated by the other nations at Worlds?”

“Because the Russians are actually AI bots?” he deadpans.

Raven rolls her eyes. “American skaters have a hard time emoting,” she answers. “Generally.”

Luna snaps her fingers. “Exactly. Glad one of you pays attention when I talk to you. The judges want to fall in love with a story. Remember that.”

Then, it’s time. Raven turns to face Murphy, and she trails her eyes up his body. He’s sweaty from their ice skating session, and she’s sure she is too. She looks up to find he’s watching her, an intense look in his crystal eyes she hasn’t seen before. He holds her gaze for a beat, nods once in reassurance.

They start easy, just having Murphy lift her by the waist. She’s surprised at how easy it is for him, though she shouldn’t have been. Yes, skaters generally weren’t buff like Bellamy, and Murphy certainly wasn't, but he was packed full of lean muscle. From there, they move on to the simplest of lifts — he hoists her up, his head just beside her hip and hands holding her up by both the armpit and her hand as she extends her legs out.

Luna makes them practice it a couple times before she graduates them to the next level.

Raven’s hearts starts beating so quick that Murphy feels it when he presses up against her back. “You okay?” he whispers in her ear, and she nods. Or maybe she shakes her head, she can’t really tell.

She bites down on her lip, hard, when Murphy lifts her up, holding her by a single hand to the hip as she clings for dear life to his shoulder. Luna tells them to hold it, to keep holding it, and her breath is coming in quicker now.

It feels like she’s suspended for ages when Luna finally releases them from the hold. Murphy brings her down gracefully, her feet barely bouncing when they touch the mat.

Luna examines her, scanning her from head to toe. “Let’s leave it at that for today. Good work guys.”


	2. 2018: Part II

_June 2018_

Raven freaks out, for the million time that morning.

It’s been weeks of this. The lifts in the training room are… doable, but when they get out on the ice, she can’t help it. She stiffens, making it nearly impossible for Murphy to even lift her by the waist. And for his part, Murphy was growing increasingly frustrated.

He bites his fist as he skates a circle around her, Luna rubbing her temples in the background.

“How in the hell am I supposed to lift you if you become deadweight like that?” Murphy says through gritted teeth.

They’re alone on the ice — they reserved an extra private session after the rink closed to the public for this very reason. Luna was trying to see if Raven would feel more at ease if there was no audience.

“Well forgive me, but I don’t exactly want to crack my head open on the ice again,” she says, arms crossed.

“I’m not going to fucking drop you,” he says, raising his voice.

“You dropped me on the mats yesterday.”

Murphy scoffs, indignant. “You kneed me in the fucking groin after you freaked out in midair, like you always do. And I _didn’t_ drop you, you jumped out of my hold.”

“Because you were going to drop me!”

“No, I _wasn’t.”_ He proceeds to skate circles around her, and if he thinks crowding her like this is making things any better, he's wrong.

Raven waves her hands, already done with this argument, one they’ve had at least once every other day since they started learning their routine for the ice show. “Whatever, let’s just run the program without the lifts.”

“Fuck that,” Murphy says, skidding to a stop. “We know the rest of the routine. Running it again without the lifts is a waste of time, and you know it. As if we’re fucking ice dancers.” His tone has turned nasty.

“God, you’re such an asshole,” Raven seethes, hoping to hit a nerve.

She succeeds. He skates up to her, his face dangerously close to hers. “You’re wasting my fucking time, Reyes.”

“Yeah?” Raven says, squaring up to him. “Then why don’t you go fuck yourself.”

A sharp whistle cuts through the air, Luna signaling a time out with her hands. They begrudgingly skate over, avoiding meeting each other’s eyes. Luna pushes their skate guards into their hands and instructs them to sit down on the bench, lips drawn together in a thin line.

“This has got to stop,” she says firmly. “If you keep this up, you guys are never going to pass your senior test, never mind the Olympics.” She looks between them two, incredulously. “You are a _team_. You need each other.”

She hones in on Raven. “Do you want this, or not? Because these last few weeks, it looks like you don’t. You’re not even trying.”

“I am,” Raven insists.

“Cut the bullshit," she snaps. "Every time Murphy goes in for the lift, you go limp like a toddler having a meltdown in a grocery store. You’re not just putting yourself in danger by doing that, you’re putting Murphy in danger too. You should know better than anyone what happens if a lift goes wrong."

Her statement stings. That was obviously Luna's intention.

Then, she pointedly glares at Murphy. “And you, do you really think Raven is going to trust you when you’re yelling at her like you just did? Do you think you can intimidate her into a lift? Throwing f-bombs around even though you dig at her for doing the same during the day? Getting in her face? I know you would have _never_ treated Emori like you just treated Raven.”

Raven and Murphy look to the ground, sufficiently chastened. And embarrassed. Raven is glad they're alone at the rink. At least they're being shamed in secret.

But Luna was right. This wasn’t working. Something had to change.

Softer now that she’d gotten her point across, Luna adds, “You guys aren’t connecting. The chemistry is there — Obviously. I can see it when you skate together. But something is missing, and you guys need to do something about that.” She sighs and places her hands on her hips. “We’re done for tonight. Go home, get some sleep. We’ll pick back up tomorrow.”

* * *

The next morning, Raven wakes up at 4:30 a.m. as usual. When she silences her alarm, she sees she already has a text from Luna.

_Meet today at 2187 Arkadia Blvd., suite 3. Class starts at 6 a.m. No ice time today._

Raven furrows her brows, quickly clicking on the hyperlinked address in the text. It takes her to the maps application, and the name “Eligius Yoga Studio” pops up with a pinpoint.

As confused as she is, she’s not going to ignore her coach’s instruction. Instead of her usual leggings, she steps into a pair of bike shorts and dons a lightweight tank top over her sports bra. If she’s going to do yoga this morning, she’ll need clothes she can move in.

The yoga studio Luna sends her to is in a small strip mall across the street from Bardo Park, often full of families having picnics or people exercising during the summer. At this hour, there’s only a few runners in the park. She walks inside the studio and steps up to the counter.

The young woman checking people in is wide-eyed and fresh faced, her auburn hair tied neatly in a braid over her shoulder. “Here for the couple’s class?”

Raven tilts her head. “Uh—”

Behind her, the door opens and after the woman’s question, she’s not surprised to see Murphy, also not wearing his regular skating attire. Instead, dressed in a pair of basketball shorts and black T-shirt, he looks pretty… normal.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Raven tells the woman.

As they head into the exercise room, she looks back at Murphy, who shrugs at her in response, also clueless. There's a tension between them still from last night's argument, but Raven does her best to pretend it isn't there. Seven other couples are already set up with their mats, and Raven and Murphy find some room near the back to place theirs. The instructors are a tiny black woman — she couldn’t be taller than 5 feet — and a white guy with a man bun.

The couples around them are in love. You can see it in the way they talk to each other, or if they’re interacting with another couple, the way they stay anchored, a hand on the thigh, fingers laced together on the mat.

For the few months they’ve been skating, Raven hardly knows Murphy. They don’t hang out outside their sessions, they don’t text unless it’s related to their skating, and she certainly doesn't feel comfortable touching him outside of the ice.

So despite the fact he’s the person she spends the most time with, he’s virtually a stranger. If Luna’s goal was to push them together through an awkward situation, she would definitely achieve that.

The instructors are friendly, the quintessential yogis. They open the class with a few words on how connecting to your partner is so important, and how the benefits of yoga can help them bare their souls to each other.

Raven is skeptical, but it’s not like she has a choice to leave the class. They follow the instruction to sit down on the mats, legs crisscrossed and with their backs touching.

“I want you guys to feel each other’s vertebrates with each breath you inhale,” the male yogi says.

He instructs them to raise their arms in the air, and then twist to the right to grab your partners left knee. Murphy hand feels hot on her bare skin, and the sensation makes her mouth feel dry.

“This is freaking weird,” he whispers to her, and she stifles a giggle, nervous all of the sudden, and glad he was the one to say something first.

That sets the tone for the rest of the class. As they got into increasingly more dependent positions — her body draped over Murphy’s back; tangled on the floor, her feet to his head and his hand gripping her hip; their feet touching while they pulled on each other’s arms — he helped keep her grounded. It was like he instinctively knew when she started to feel a bit uncomfortable and would crack his stupid little jokes to distract her.

It was odd, but Raven did feel closer to him after just an hour.

They walk out of the yoga studio, sweaty and laughing between themselves. Raven throws her yoga mat in the back of her truck. Murphy raps his knuckles around the edge of the bed. “Somehow, I didn’t peg you for a truck girl.”

“I like a good engine,” she says. “In another life, I’d probably be a mechanic. I’ve fixed this puppy up more times than I can count.”

Murphy nods thoughtfully. He gestures with his head to the park across the street. “Walk with me?”

She agrees with a nod of her head, and together they wait until there are no cars to cross quickly. They walk the winding paved trail around the square park until they come to the tree line. There seems to be a dirt path leading somewhere, and Murphy waves at her to follow him. “I want to show you something.”

It’s not a far walk, probably about five minutes, but the place they end up at seems like a whole other planet. Raven has grown up on this mountain, in this little small town of Polis at the base of Mt. Weather, but sometimes, she forgets how high up they are. Murphy sits on the edge of this rock outcrop, millions of trees looking like heads of broccoli beneath them.

“I never knew this was here,” Raven says.

Murphy smiles to himself. “Figures. I didn’t think Finn was the type to take his partner to most infamous makeout spot in Polis.”

“You brought me to a makeout spot?” She sits down beside him.

“The view is pretty unreal.”

He wasn’t wrong. The morning sun bathes everything in a pale glow, the green of the trees shimmering against the far backdrop of peaks, a couple still streaked in small patches of white snow. They’ll melt away almost entirely come next month, save for the very tops, but no need to miss it. The snow will be back by early November.

“I wanted to apologize,” Murphy says, breaking the brief silence between them. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that yesterday.”

“Thanks,” Raven says. “I’m sorry too.” She fixates her eyes on the landscape in front of them, tossing her shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. “It’s just… every time you try to lift me on that ice, it all comes flooding back to me.”

“The accident?”

Raven runs her tongue over bottom lip. “Yeah.”

Murphy sighs and leans back on his palms. He kicks his feet in the air, and Raven watches as they go up and down, up and down.

“What even happened?” he asks. “I wasn’t on the ice that morning.”

"I'm sure you've heard the story."

"Yeah, but I want to hear it from you."

Raven closes her eyes. She can see what happened before and a sliver of what happened after, but it’s the middle bit — the falling bit — she can’t really pinpoint.

It was an ordinary day. She and Finn were running their short program in preparation for sectionals. It was a beautiful choreography, set to a melodic piano tune Raven can’t remember the tile of, but she's pretty sure was from a French composer. They had already done the same program at several competitions, and with every turn on the ice, Raven remembers feeling confident, feeling like this was their year and they were on the road to PyeongChang. Their relationship might've been a dumpster fire, but they surely couldn't throw their partnership away, not with the Olympics so close.

Finn lifted her up in the air, their hands joined as they glided on the ice to the music’s climax. She transitioned to her side, her arm balanced on his back and his on her hip, her legs bent behind her. She remembers an immediate shift, how something suddenly didn’t feel right. On the second revolution of their joint spin, she plummeted to the ice. Head first.

Murphy winces when she tells him this.

“Falling wasn’t even the worst bit,” Raven says. “I mean, adrenaline does its job and everything. I just felt a lot of pressure in my head. What hurt the most though was when I came to, and opened my eyes, not yet having registered that I had literally cracked my skull open, I look to Finn… and you know what comes out of his mouth?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but Murphy shakes his head anyway.

Raven scoffs, biting at her lip as anger floods through her, as it always does when she thinks of this. “He says, ‘Oops.’ He dropped me on the ice, sees the pool of blood around my head, all the people fussing around me and calling paramedics, and the best he can come up with... is ‘Oops.’”

“He's a piece of shit,” Murphy deadpans.

She couldn’t skate with Finn after that. It took her months to recover from her injury, and when she finally got the green light from Dr. Abby Griffin to skate again, she had been excited. She thought they would come back with a vengeance. But every time she took Finn’s hands on the ice, she was reminded of that moment. All she could think about was that, after over a decade of skating together, after a relationship where she gave him all her heart and soul and sweat and tears, he had seemed so unbothered to see her hurt.

“You're different,” Raven tells Murphy, who quirks his head as if to say, 'I fucking hope so'. “When Emori got hurt, you launched into action. You carried her off the ice like your life depended on it.”

“It was the worse moment of my life,” Murphy confides. The weight behind his statement is apparent. “I don’t how Finn could’ve made you feel like you didn’t matter, because I swear to you, there’s nothing worse than seeing your partner bleeding on the ice. I felt like I failed her, and it wasn’t even my fault. She tripped during crossovers.”

Suddenly, he turns his head to look at her. “Weren’t you and Collins dating when you fell?”

Raven lets a bitter smile grace her lips. “No.” She doesn’t offer more, and she hopes he doesn’t ask. “We weren’t dating then.”

Murphy nods thoughtfully. “I get that. It’s complicated... dating your partner.”

“You adore Emori.”

He doesn’t deny it, but he does get a faraway look in his eyes. “Sometimes love is enough. Sometimes, it isn’t.”

It’s a cryptic answer if she’s ever heard one. But just like he didn’t press for information about Finn, she doesn’t ask for more details about his relationship with Emori. After all, the only relationship that really mattered at the moment was their professional skating relationship.

She knew she had to let go of her fears. It was time.

* * *

_August 2018_

It’s that moment of freefalling, where your heart is at your throat and your stomach feels upside down and the world is spinning with you, and the only sound in your ears is your breathing. This is what made her fall in love with pair skating from the beginning.

Raven uncrosses her arms as she comes out of the airborne spin, landing perfectly on the edge of her skate. Murphy beams at her, and she can’t help but return his grin.

“Beautiful triple lutz,” Luna calls from the edge of the rink. “Good throw, Murphy.”

Lately, it’s been feeling like all the pieces are finally slotting into place. Their routine for the ice show was near perfect, and though they would not be entering competitions until next fall, Raven feels this show will be a good precursor to demonstrate what she and Murphy are capable of on the ice. They’ve only been training together for four months, and after her history, the fact she’s not only executing lifts again but that Murphy can throw her on the ice with such ease…

She’s never dwelled too much on fate, but if she ever believed in it, this would be as close as she would get.

They run through the rest of their routine, finishing with an intimate hold, Murphy’s face cradled in her hand, his positioned low on her back.

Luna claps from her spot on the edge of the rink. The music shuts off and hand-in-hand, she and Murphy skate over to their coach.

“That was the best skate you guys have had,” Luna says, looking truly proud of them. But she wouldn’t be their coach if she didn’t have notes on how they could improve. She reminds Raven that she needs to lengthen her spine more while in second lift in the sequence. She tells Murphy to remember to keep his arms outstretched after the triple-toe.

“No more skipping ballet class,” she admonishes him, and Murphy opens his mouth, annoyed. He looks to Raven as if she ratted him out, but she quickly shakes her head and signals that no, it wasn’t her.

“What? You thought I wouldn’t find out?” Luna presses with a raised eyebrow. “I know everything.”

“I’ve only skipped twice.”

“Mhmm. Emori can wait John.”

Raven waits until she and Murphy are alone to ask him about it. They’re catching a quick snack break outside in the picnic tables before their training session on the mats. She munches on her protein bar, and maybe Murphy gets sick of her staring at her, because he tells her to just go ahead and say what was on her mind.

“Look I know it’s none of my business,” she starts, and then backtracking, “well I guess it is a little bit of my business since you’re my partner and all, but… why are you skipping to spend time with your girlfriend? It’s not she doesn’t know you have class. She was _in_ that class.” She takes a bite of her protein bar as she waits for his answer.

“I’m not making it a habit,” he says. “Emori and I just… have hit a couple rough patches. We needed the time to work things out.”

A bad thought pops into her head, not for the first time. She and Murphy have gotten a lot closer in the last month. They already spent about 20 hours a week together training, not counting the extra ice time Luna has scheduled for them after hours to run their routine every once in a while and practice for their senior test. But beyond that, they have spent a lot of non-ice skating time together, even for the most mundane of activities. Last weekend, they went grocery shopping, and lately, they’ve been eating a lot of their meals together after the late night training sessions.

She’s told Murphy a lot about her life, and he has as well. She remembers the way he wiped her tear at the diner the other night when they talked about their parents. Her mom always saw Raven’s decision to become a pair skater as a failure. She had never been able to truly fulfill her own figure skating dreams herself, having come from a poor immigrant family in Nevada. Figure skating was an expensive sport and while her mom was naturally talented, something she discovered while skating on ponds as kid in winter, her family simply didn't have the means to support her ice time. Her mom didn’t start competing until she was 15, when she held her own job, and her skating career was short lived. She fell in love, got pregnant, and followed a man north to Idaho only to be dumped on her ass with a baby at 19.

Raven’s relationship with her mom up to her death was complicated, but she always made sure Raven had what she needed for figure skating.

Murphy’s past, of course, was a bit more complicated in some ways. The sport ran deeper than she could have ever imagined in Murphy. It was a way to stay connected with his parents. He had to make it to the Olympics, for them. Sometimes, Raven asks herself how much he wanted to make it to the Olympics for himself.

Raven wonders if Emori has been getting upset over the amount of time Raven has spent with her boyfriend. Maybe she was overstepping a line.

“Does she hate me?” Raven asks him.

He appears to not know who she’s referring to. “Who?” he asks through a mouthful of his granola bar.

“Emori, obviously.”

He looks at her like she’s crazy. “Of course she doesn’t hate you. Jesus Reyes, the world doesn’t revolve around you,” he teases. In response, Raven throws her empty wrapper at him. It flutters harmlessly over the metal table.

Murphy grabs it before it’s carried off by the wind, scrunching it up with his own. “As far as Emori is concerned, you’re a godsend.”

Raven leans back on her seat. “That sounds nice. Raven Reyes, John Murphy’s godsend,” she says doing a half-circle of spirit fingers in the air.

“More like my pain in the ass. But you’re alright sometimes… I guess.”

She hums. “Like when I’m nailing my triple lutz?”

“It wasn’t bad,” he says, a half-smile on his lips. “Not bad at all.”

* * *

Raven leans over her tub and turns on the faucet, running her hand through the water to test the temperature. Satisfied, she sprinkles the Epsom salt into the water.

Her body is hurting. Today’s morning skate was taxing, as Luna made them run their program a few times in a row and then they practiced their lifts, throws and jumps for their senior test. Then, per usual ,she worked at the outfitters, and while the summer season was slower than the winter by miles, she still had a few clients renting mountain bikes and asking questions about trails and the like. Thankfully, no ballet tonight, but because of that, Luna scheduled them for another training session.

She’s been thinking of cutting back her hours at work to focus more on skating. Back when she was skating with Finn, she only worked part-time. Of course, back then, they had sponsorships to help make ends meet. Raven lost all of those when she stopped skating, and there was no way she would get another sponsor until she and Murphy made it to Nationals — at the very least.

As she undresses, Raven takes stock of the bruises on her legs. She sees a nice one forming on the side of her knee from when she fell during her triple toe loop.

She settles into the bath with a sigh, holding her phone above water. She’s been meaning to post a photo on Instagram in a while. She doesn’t post much anymore; her last post is from six months ago and it’s a silly selfie of her and Sinclair at the store.

Today, Luna took a video of her and Murphy absolutely nailing the throw double flip in their routine for the ice show. Murphy already posted it on his account — he’s much more active than she is — but she figures she should post it too. Along with a video of them goofing off on the ice while Luna was in the restroom. Evening skate sessions sometimes got weird, and Murphy seemed to be in a mood to show off just how much attention he had paid at their ballet class the night before.

_Get you a partner that can do both_ , she captions the two videos. It doesn’t take long for Murphy to comment on it.

_@IceRaven Guess you’ve finally decided to make us IG official,_ he wrote, complete with the smirk emoji.

And then immediately under his comment was one from Emori. _Woot woot! Future Olympians._

They must be hanging out together, she guesses. Murphy was a bartender in the only non-tourist bar in Polis, fittingly named Grizzly’s as it was located at the end of a dead-end heavily-wooded road just a block from the ski resort. He must have lost his sponsorships when Emori quit too. She doesn’t quite know his schedule — it fluctuates too much for her to keep track.

Her screen changes to black and she almost drops her phone into the bath water when she sees who is calling.

“Finn,” she says, settling back into the tub. “…Hi.”

“Hey Ray.”

She can’t remember the last time she’s heard his voice. It must have been last Christmas or something. He hadn’t even called for her 21st birthday in February. Yet, here was calling, sounding like they had just spoken the week before. They make small talk. She asks about his partner — Amber, the petite redhead he met in Boise that jumped at the chance to pair up with him. Only issue was that he made that decision while she was still in the hospital, and as she recovered, he skated with Amber on a “trial basis” before making it permanent when Raven officially quit.

So he has no room to talk, or judge, when he asks about Murphy.

“It’s going really well,” she answers when he asks how it’s going. Vague is the way to go with Finn.

“To be honest, I was kind of surprised you started skating again,” he says. “And with John Murphy of all people.”

She fights back the urge to ask what he means by that, because she knows Finn well enough to know when he’s trying to instigate a fight. He knows all the buttons to push with her.

“I think he came along at the right time,” she says pragmatically.

There’s a brief silence on Finn’s end of the line before he says, “Well, I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it Finn. You’re no longer my partner.” Hell, they were barely friends at this point. She knows how much of a time commitment skating is, but there was no excuse for not sending a text every now and then just to see how she was doing. All the communication they had in the beginning after he moved away was a result of her reaching out. She got tired of that.

“I’m just watching out for you,” Finn says.

She rubs her palm on her forehead. “With all due respect, that’s not your place anymore.”

“So what, it’s his?”

“No, it’s mine,” she says firmly. “I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions.”

He lets out a long sigh, and she knows he’s backing down. She’s heard it a million times before, after a bad rehearsal, after a bad fight, after a bad skate. Finn had a tendency to be the type to suffer in silence, if only at an attempt to keep the peace. She was the complete opposite — fuck peace. If something needed to be hammered out, it needed to be hammered out.

Murphy is similar, and perhaps that’s why they can communicate better. It’s not perfect — there were times where they would raise their voice at each other while skating, but nothing like the night Luna told them to get their shit together. If they yelled it was because they both cared so much, and apologies flowed freely once they were level-headed again, and it was just them.

Raven never has to walk on eggshells around Murphy. Good or bad, he’s not going anywhere. That wasn’t the case with Finn.

Multiple times over the years, she had gone on icepartnersearch.com and ran his name in the database. He kept a profile up, always updating it after a particularly nasty fight. She wonders how many responses he got every year until they parted ways.

“Look,” he says. “Do whatever you want. It’s what you’ve always done anyway.”

He hangs up without saying goodbye, and even though she’s sure he meant to sting her with that last statement, all it does is irritate her.

The next day, she tells Murphy about her conversation with Finn as they stretch. He lifts his brows and smirks.

“Sounds like Collins is scared about his ex beating his ass at sectionals soon,” he says.

Raven laughs and shakes her head. “I don’t think it’s a competition thing. It’s definitely a Finn thing.”

Murphy snorts. “In this world, it’s always a competition thing.”

* * *

_September 2018_

She takes a deep breath and examines herself in the mirror once more. Her hands are trembling slightly as she runs her hands through her costume, a one-piece cream velvet skating dress with long sleeves. Rhinestones dot the high-neckline, as well as around the flesh-colored mesh cutouts on her sleeves. It’s a bit tighter than she remembers, having last worn it about three years before for her short program with Finn, but that just might be her memory tricking her into thinking this costume was ever comfortable.

The mesh on her back was a bit itchy. She tugs at the skirt. At least it was warm.

“You look beautiful.”

Raven sees Clarke, already dressed up in her costume — a blood-red leotard with a faux-sweetheart neckline, rhinestones emphasizing the mesh sleeves and crew neck, and a matching red chiffon skirt— looking at her through the mirror. Raven bows her head and smiles at her.

“I’m a little nervous,” Raven admits. “I know I shouldn’t be because it’s just a dumb ice show for the club, but—”

“It’s okay,” Clarke says. “But for the record, you have nothing to be nervous about. Bellamy and I were watching you guys practice yesterday and…” she whistles. “You guys are going to be tough competition.”

Octavia, Bellamy’s little sister, appears from behind a row of lockers, also dressed for the show in a black spandex halter pantsuit. Bold choice, but Raven isn’t surprised. A solo figure skater, Octavia was a trailblazer and lord save whoever she left in her wake, even at her 17 years of age. That went for her older boyfriend too, a professional Canadian snowboarder and also a part-time bouncer, if the rumors were true.

Octavia eyes her up and down, and after a long moment of scrutiny, she gives Raven a thumbs up. “You look hot.”

Raven laughs, tugging her skirt down. “I think my costume shrunk.”

“No, you got an ass,” Octavia says, sitting down at the bench to tie her skates. “I’m jealous. My coach yells at me every time she sees me eat a muffin.” She leans forward, and in a hushed tone adds, “Jokes on her though. I have a secret candy drawer in my room.”

Raven points at Clarke. “Must not be that secret.”

Octavia rolls her eyes in good humor. “Please, like she’s going to tell my brother. Who do you think helps me stock it?”

The three share a laugh, and it helps to calm Raven’s nerves. In the back of her mind, she also knows part of the friendly exchange is due to the fact this isn’t a real competition. On those days, while most skaters are nice to each other, or at the very least cordial, you don’t spend much time talking with other competitors. 

It’s why she’s known Clarke for years, but by the same token, doesn’t really _know_ her.

Harper was different. Firstly, she wasn’t ever that invested in skating, and secondly, she wasn’t a pair skater. They weren’t in direct competition with each other.

Still, Raven appreciates that they noticed her nerves and made her feel better.

Murphy is waiting for her in the hallway. She stifles a laugh when she sees him.

“I know, I look like gay pirate,” he says, fixing his billowing cream sleeves of his peasant blouse. Leather ties crisscross the V-neck, and complete with his black pants, she would say he looked more like the lead on the cover of a dollar store romance novel.

“That’s an insult to gay pirates.”

“I think he looks hot.”

Raven turns to see Emori, all smiles as she meets them, stopping to hug Raven before stepping to her boyfriend’s side. She places a hand on his chest, looking up at him with something Raven can only describe as unfettered adoration. “I’m so excited to watch you guys.”

“We’re gonna kill it,” Murphy says confidently.

Raven kisses her teeth. “As long as you don’t kill _me_.”

He steps forward, and takes her under his other arm, the three walking in tandem toward the ice rink. “C’mon, the show’s about to start.”

The ice show opens with the young kids. There’s a few cute routines, kids showing off for their families in silly costumes while executing perfect toe loops and salchows. Polis Ice Skating Club starts their Olympic training young. One kid in particular catches Raven’s eye — a seven-year-old girl who performs to Ave Maria, her routine adorned with graceful spins on the ice. She’ll be one to watch in a few years, and if her music choice was anything to go by, her coach and parents all knew it.

After the kids comes the junior division of their club, starting with the ice dancers, followed by the solo skaters and then pairs. The senior division would follow the same pattern. Raven is grateful that the club allowed her and Murphy to skate with the other senior pairs before they passed their test. It made sense after all; both were skating at the senior level in their previous pairs.

Raven doesn’t realize she’s been pulling at her tights in pent-up nervous energy until Murphy settles his hand over hers, the warmth of his palm seeping into the skin of her thigh.

Luna is sitting beside her, and Raven notices that she doesn’t miss the gesture. A small smile forms upon her coach’s lips, even as she stares straight ahead.

Murphy retracts his hand after a few seconds, never saying anything directly to her. She stops picking at her tights.

When the senior ice dancers, their only pair in the club, glide onto the stage, she and Murphy go to warm up before their skate.

They watch the show from the stretching area, which has windows onto the rink. The music is loud enough they can hear it inside there too, thought it’s a bit muffled.

“We’re up first?” Raven asks as she folds her body over the ballet bar.

“Yep,” Murphy says. “Should be fun.”

“I’m kind of glad we’re not going after Bellamy and Clarke. They’re doing their short program for the Grand Prix.”

That pair has always skated well, aided by both their technical aptitude the immense chemistry between them. Dating your partner isn’t frowned upon in figure skating by any means. In fact, some of the best pairs in history were married. There was once she thought that would eventually be her and Finn, an love story on the ice for the ages. Their names would be broadcast as Collins-Collins during the airing of their segment. But Reyes-Murphy sounds a lot nicer these days.

Murphy doesn’t seem bothered. “I kind of wish we were, if only to show the princess and her loyal knight that they have serious competition on their asses.”

“Right, because we could totally execute the lifts they’re doing today.”

“We totally could,” Murphy says confidently, “but I don’t think you want my hand anywhere near your crotch at the moment.”

Raven bursts out laughing, knowing exactly what lift Murphy was referring to. It was beautiful really, and Bellamy didn’t really have his hand on Clarke’s crotch, more like her lower belly, but it was an incredibly intimate lift — one that required more than just trust, but also familiarity. In practice, Bellamy lifted Clarke up like he’d done so a million times, probably because he _has_ in the years they’ve skated together.

They make it down to the edge of the rink where Luna is already waiting for them. Octavia is closing out the senior division with her routine to Adele’s “Skyfall.”

“Now remember,” Luna whispers, beckoning them closer until they huddle beside her,” Murphy, make sure your arms remain fully extended after your throw double flip, and Raven, don’t forget to maintain eye contact with Murphy while gliding.”

The song ends, Octavia striking a dramatic pose and earning boisterous applause from the stands. When she exits the ice on the other side, Luna ushers Raven and Murphy onto the rink. They skate toward the center, hand-in-hand as the announcer presents them, dancing to “The Wedding” from the Outlander soundtrack.

She and Murphy begin wrapped in each other’s arms, Raven in front. When the music plays, they loop their arms around each other in the air, skating in a short figure eight around each other. Raven’s heart is beating hard in her chest. She’s tuned everyone out, just as she used to do when she skated with Finn. There was no one in the rink, as far as she was concerned, other than Murphy.

When the music softens into long notes, Raven and Murphy skate backward, her leg hitched up by his hand at his waist, his face buried in her neck. She can feel his warm breath reassuring on her skin as they prepare for the first throw when the music picks up, the throw double flip. Applause rings out when she lands, but she pays it no mind as she and Murphy move on to side-by-side camel spins. When the bagpipes join in, she and Murphy are gliding together, and like Luna mentioned earlier, Raven does her best to keep Murphy’s gaze, even though his ice blue eyes, always penetrating, seem to bear down into her very soul today.

He pulls her to him and without breaking eye-contact, he lifts her above his head, his hand gripping her hip while she clings to his shoulder, her legs tucked in the air. He lowers her down gently, and they do a triple lutz combination before gliding backward on the ice once more.

They’ve done this routine numerous times before, but this time, perhaps it’s the costumes, or the audience she’s tuned out… It feels different. Her mouth feels dry at Murphy’s piercing gaze. She misses it when he lifts her by her hands in the air, but it’s not gone for long. Once her skates are back on the ice, he doesn’t let her leave his sight. They do a waltz jump as the music begins to die down, finishing back in the middle of the rink, enveloped close in each other’s arms, their noses touching. His is cold, cheeks pink from exertion. His breath, rising and falling, bumps against her chest.

Raven doesn’t register people are clapping until he lets go of her. Then it all hits her in a wave.

She smiles, dazed, at the crowd.

* * *

Post-show, Murphy insists — no, demands — they celebrate at Grizzly’s. He’s in a good mood, a contagious one even, and she doesn’t want to rain on his parade. Even if that meant no celebratory strawberry milkshake at Silo’s. It’s time to start new traditions anyway.

Harper surprised her in the stands after their skate. Raven had no idea she had been planning on coming, and it meant a lot to have her friend there. Naturally, she was included in the plans to hang at Grizzly’s, and Murphy invited Bellamy and Clarke, meaning that by default, Octavia was coming too even though she was underage.

Emori tells them she’ll meet them there. She has to stop by her house first for some reason or the other; Emori didn’t elaborate, and Murphy didn’t ask questions.

The rest of them all arrive at the bar one after the other. Grizzly’s is a mountain man’s ideal bar if she’s ever seen one, complete with rocking chairs in the raised front porch and the lack of asphalt in the parking lot. They snag a booth in the back by the dart boards, and Murphy orders them a round of beer. Octavia gets a coke.

After a few swigs of his drink, Bellamy is more relaxed. He had seemed surprised at first when Raven invited him out, but now, he seemed in his element. It wasn’t the first time they all had hung out, but it had been ages. When they were teenagers, they went to the movies together, got invited to the same parties. That all came to a stop when they entered the senior division and competition got more serious. It became blatant after the first year she and Finn, and Bellamy and Clarke, skyrocketed to the top of the leaderboard at sectionals that the days of friendly competition were over — at least that’s the way Finn put it.

Clarke reaches across the table to brush her hand. “Your routine was amazing,” she says. “My mom loved it. She’s really happy for you.”

Dr. Abby Griffin was the unofficial club doctor. Every parent or coach whose skater injured their hip or sprained an ankle or wrist always brought them in to see her. Raven hasn’t gone to see her since her final exam of her head injury, when she was given an all-clear to skate.

If any other skater had said that, Raven wouldn’t have believed them. Most skating parents were at the most polite, but hardly ever genuinely complimentary. Abby however, was different. Maybe it was because she’d healed all of their scrapes and cuts and broken bones, but she truly seemed to take an interest, even against a direct competitor of her daughter’s.

So, Raven thanks Clarke for her sentiment. “It felt amazing,” she admits.

“Yeah it did,” Murphy says. He wraps an arm behind her on the back of the booth. “Wasn’t easy though. This one’s a piece of work.” He pinches the top of her shoulder so she knows he’s joking.

“I feel bad for _you_ ,” Bellamy says, looking directly at her. “You’re the one that has to put up with him all day.”

Beside him, Octavia purses her lips, eyebrows raised. “Better Murphy than Finn.”

A chorus of agreement rings out and Raven’s mouth gapes. “Oh come on, he wasn’t _that_ bad.”

“He was pretty bad,” Bellamy says.

She looks to Murphy for backup, but he simply shrugs. “Don’t look at me.”

“He just... Cared a lot,” Raven says. She doesn’t even know why she’s defending him. Old habit, she guesses.

“Bellamy just hates him because Finn used to hit on Clarke all the time,” Octavia says, sipping her coke.

The group falls into a sudden awkward silence. That wasn’t news for Raven — she had seen it happen with her own eyes a few times. It was a glaring red flag, no matter how many times Finn said the flirting was harmless. At the time, she was so blinded by her love for him that she willed herself to believe him.

Bellamy clears his throat, downing his beer in one last swig. “I think I’m ready for another round.”

Midway through the next round of drinks — Raven’s last, she was already feeling bloated — Bellamy and Octavia head to the dart board to play a few games. Clarke, who is considering going to college for an art degree, is asking Harper questions about Boise State. Murphy excuses himself. He digs his phone out of his pocket and Raven knows he is going to call Emori.

It had been an hour and she still hadn’t shown up. Raven had a gut feeling that she wasn’t going to.

When he doesn’t return after 10 minutes, she goes outside to find him. She doesn’t have to look far; he’s leaning against one of the columns of the bar’s front porch.

“You okay?” she says, tentatively placing a hand on his shoulder.

He doesn’t look at her, eyes fixed on the empty road ahead of the bar. It’s dark, and beyond the fluorescent street lights of the parking lot, there isn’t much to see save headlights from cars coming and going.

“I’m fine,” he says, his mood a complete 180 from earlier. He frowns at the empty road. “You should go back inside with the others. I’m afraid I’m not the best company at the moment.”

She jostles his shoulder lightly. “When are you ever?”

“No, Raven,” he pushes away from the column, away from her. “I’m not in the mood.”

She chews on her cheek, debating on whether she should do what he says and leave him. He seemed like he wanted to be alone. Sometimes, though, Raven tells people that herself and she doesn’t really mean it. Something told her to stay put, call it a gut feeling.

“She’s not coming, is she?” Raven asks.

Murphy answers with a shake of his head.

“Did she say why?”

“Does it matter?” He huffs, coming back to her side to lean over the wooden railing. He holds up a single digit in the air. “My first skate without her, and she’s already pulling away. I knew this was going to happen.”

Raven mirrors his position on the railing. In the distance, the sound of a motorcycle revving cuts through the air.

“It’s not like I was asking for much,” Murphy continues. “I just wanted her to be here, with us. I just wanted one thing to stay the same.”

In the back of her mind, Raven knows Murphy would rather be skating with Emori. It wasn’t a source of insecurity for her, since Emori quit, but it made her feel bad for Murphy sometimes. While this was her lucky break, Murphy had gone from skating in top competitions with his partner of almost a decade, to starting from scratch with a near stranger.

“I’m sorry,” she tells him.

He looks at her, brows furrowed. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I guess I’m sorry I’m not her.”

“Whoa, wait,” he says, standing upright. He takes her hands in his. “Raven this isn’t a skating thing. This is a relationship thing.” He scans her eyes, almost like he was afraid she didn’t believe him. “You’re the best fucking thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”

“But we’re not even competing, and it’s because of me,” she says.

He draws her closer, and she wonders if this is an appropriate distance to be from someone else’s boyfriend, one where she can feel the warmth of his chest a hair’s length away from hers. If she has to ask, that means it probably wasn’t.

“Listen to me,” he says. “That skate today? It didn’t just feel amazing — it _was_ amazing. I’ve never felt so connected to someone on the ice. That doesn’t just happen. And that was at a dumb ice show. Imagine what you and I could do in a year.”

She nods, a part of her relieved that he felt the same way she did. What they had on the ice was special. _He_ was special.

“I just don’t like seeing you upset like that,” she says.

He lets her hands fall to her side. “Well, it’s not you making me feel like shit, so…” He shakes himself off.

“I’m sure Emori doesn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

“It doesn’t matter in the end anyway,” he says. Raven wants to ask him about it, only because they seemed so happy at the show. But he doesn’t give her a chance. He cuts her off and signals to the door of the bar. “Let’s go watch Bellamy get his ass handed to him at darts by Octavia. I’m craving chaos tonight,” he says, cracking his neck to one side.

She follows him inside, and he doesn’t say a word about Emori for the rest of the night.

* * *

_November 2018_

It’s pitch black outside when Raven and Murphy’s ballet class ends. The weather is gnarly, with temperatures hovering in the single digits and likely to drop into the negatives in a few hours. Winter in Polis was always miserable, even if the pristine snow was beautiful to look at — when you were warm inside your house. The first snowfall is coming soon, Raven can feel it in her very cold bones.

She shivers as she drives home, her old truck’s heater still in the process of kicking in. Her townhouse not far from the ballet studio, but the road home is secluded this time of year. During the summer months, many people utilize the trails in the area at all hours of the day, but in the winter, most runners and hikers are gone before sundown.

Raven squints when a dark shadow appears up ahead in the road, slowing down in case she has to slam on the brakes, which she does as soon as she can see the shadow — or rather animal — clearly. A big grizzly bear, staring up at her through the headlights.

“Ah shit,” Raven says, turning off her engine. She turns down her headlights from her high beams to the low beams. Last thing she needs is the bear going berserk because she’s blinding him.

The bear looks at her for a few more seconds before losing interest and continuing on his way. Crisis averted. She lets out a long sigh of relief.

Raven goes to turn on her truck, but nothing happens. She turns the key again. Nothing.

“Fuck me,” she mutters.

Her engine isn’t even turning over. The last thing she wants to do is get out of this truck right now, seeing as she’s just had an encounter with a bear and it is colder than a meat freezer outside. It’s not like she has much of a choice, unfortunately. She digs in her glove compartment for the small flashlight she keeps for emergencies, and reaches underneath the passenger seat for her small tool bag before putting her truck in manual drive.

Her boots make a crunching sound as she hops out of the truck, the cold immediately seeping into the exposed skin of her face. Quick, she needs to make this quick. She quickly walks her truck closer to the side of the road, and once satisfied that she won’t be accidentally run over if someone else comes along, she puts it back in park.

She pops open the hood of her truck, glad at least that her fingerless gloves will make whatever immediate repair work she needs to do to get home. She’s can't be more than a mile away, at most.

Unfortunately, a cursory glance over her engine confirms what she hoped she wouldn’t have to deal with. Something she couldn’t fix on her own.

Her battery was dead. Raven sighs, hunched over the hood. She glances into the dark empty road.

She closes the hood and gets back inside her truck, less the bear decide he wanted to come back. With a dead battery, she can’t run the heater, and the little warmth she was able to get before that damn bear appeared is now long gone.

Raven reaches for her phone and rings him up.

It rings, and rings, and rings until it goes to voicemail. “You’ve reached Sinclair. Sorry I missed—”

She hangs up. Damn it, she thinks, sinking back into her seat.

She looks back down to her phone, and sees Murphy’s name in recent call list. Her finger hovers over his name, and she presses on it. All she needs is a car with a functioning battery. He was bound to have that.

He answers on the first ring. “Reyes, long time no see.”

“My battery’s dead,” she says, not wasting any time with greetings. “I’m stranded on the side of the road and there was a bear. I need your help.”

He falls silent for a second, and she almost worries that the call has dropped. Wouldn’t be the first time, signal could be a bit spotty on this side of the woods. But then she hears the beeping sound a car makes when you insert your key with the door open, and the soft roaring of an engine. “Where are you?”

She tells him and he instructs her to stay on the line with him. Raven rolls her eyes at this, but it’s better than talking to herself for the next few minutes until he arrives.

It doesn’t take long, maybe 10 minutes, until she sees his high beams on the road. Still on the phone, she tells him to pull up alongside her.

“You couldn’t pick a darker spot?” he says.

“Just lucky like that I guess,” she says.

She opens her hood again and he does the same to his. Once the jumper cables are in place, he gets into his car and turns it on. “Get in,” he says and she doesn’t have to be told twice. Murphy’s car has seat warmers.

He locks the doors as soon as she’s inside. She shoots him an odd look. “Paranoid much?”

“Call it whatever you want,” he says. “You never know what’s in these woods.”

Raven raises her eyebrows at the ominous tone in his voice. “I don’t think bears can open car doors.” His heater is on full blast and she presses her fingers against the vents. “Anyway, thanks for coming so quickly.”

“Yeah, you owe me,” he says.

She smiles to herself, leaning back on the seat and appreciating the warmth. They need to give the truck a few minutes until the battery can charge, and then in the morning, she’ll have to take it in to the auto shop to get a new one.

Murphy kicks his seat back a little and closes his eyes with a soft groan. “Are you ready for our senior test?”

She would be lying if she told him she wasn’t stressing about it, but he already knew that. If they fail it, their next chance will be in six months. While it wouldn’t be the end of the world if they failed, it would suck. Immensely.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she says. “Just don’t want to fall on my ass on a triple lutz.”

“You’ve been nailing them,” Murphy says.

“A lucky streak. Finn always said I was—”

“Oh forget Finn already,” he says, cutting her off. “Anyone could tell the guy was super insecure about his ability. Anything he told you about your skating was meant to bring you down because he couldn’t compete at your level.”

Raven mouths a surprised wow. Murphy didn’t miss a beat. “Sounds like you’ve thought about this a lot.”

“I call shit like I see it. If I say your triple lutz is shit, then it’s shit. I’m telling you, you’re a much better jumper than you think.”

She shifts on her hip so her body is faces his. With his elbow braced on the door, beanie low on his forehead, nose tinted pink from the cold, she’s surprised at the level of assertion he carries. Even before she knew him, when he was just another pair skater on the ice, Raven thought he talked a lot of shit. She wasn’t sure he could walk the walk, so to speak.

“You should get a side gig as a motivational speaker,” she tells him and he snorts.

“I would, but I’m too busy with you,” he says. “You’re a fucking handful. Dead car batteries, bears in the woods...”

She chuckles. “I’m sorry, did you have _plans?”_

“It would be nice to have sex,” he says, and she smacks his chest. “I meant with Emori, goddamn. We haven’t had sex in like three weeks.”

“TMI, Murphy. TMI!”

There are certain images she doesn’t want in her head. That is one of those images.

Murphy seems to be getting a kick of riling her up. He can’t wipe the shit-eating grin off his face, even as he attempts to apologize. “I’m sorry, I’ve just had a lot of… frustration lately.”

“Boo-hoo, three weeks. Let me get out my tiny violin.” She rubs her thumb and forefinger together. “Try going almost two years.”

He whistles. “Fucking hell. I don’t think I could. I’m a pretty physical person.”

That much was obvious. Just being his partner for the last seven months has shown her loud and clear that Murphy’s love language was touch. It came natural to him; a hand on the small of her back as they skate, hugs after good days, and bad days…

“So am I,” she admits, immediately wondering why the hell she would tell him that.

He perks up, lifting his head an inch from the headrest. “Oh? Do tell.”

“Already regretting saying something.”

He laughs, sinking back into his chair. “It’s not a crime to enjoy sex,” he says.

“No, but talking to you about it might be,” she says.

“Suit yourself. However, I cannot guarantee I won’t complain about going cold turkey in the future.”

Her eyebrows jump on her forehead. “Big surprise. You’re always complaining about something.”

He jabs her in the side, right where he knows she’s ticklish and she smacks him across the chest again, holding up a finger as a warning. If he wants to play it that way, Raven would. And she would win.

He knows it too. He raises his hands up in surrender.

The battery jump works, and Raven drives off in her truck. Only when she’s halfway down the road does Murphy turn his car back around.

* * *

_December 2018_

The minute they land a synchronized triple lutz, Raven knows they’ve got it in the bag. A wide grin spreads over her lips, adrenaline coursing through her veins like liquid nitro. When Murphy lifts her into the air, she doesn’t feel an ounce of fear.

Luna is bouncing on her heels after the music cuts off and they skate over to her. The judges are writing notes, but Raven doesn’t care what they write. She knows they’ve passed.

Luna wraps them up in a bear hug after they put their guards on. “Beautiful, guys. Absolutely gorgeous skate.” She holds them at arm’s lengths, Murphy and Raven’s shoulders squished together. “However, Murphy you have to watch that landing on your axels, unless you want to eat ice sometime soon. And Raven,” she says, looking at her, “chest has to be more upright during that second lift. No curves in your back.”

They give Luna a chorus of “Yes coach” because nitpicking is her job. That doesn’t mean it’s going to stop them from feeling like they were on top of the world.

They wait for the judges results on the bleachers. Her knees are jittery, and while she’s not nervous, not really, she still finds herself pulling at her tights. Murphy reaches over and places his hand over hers.

The scores come quickly, and Luna’s head bounces in triumph when she reads them. “You passed,” she says.

Murphy lets out a holler, loud enough to echo in the empty ice rink. Raven’s celebration is more muted. She sighs in relief.

“Now, the real work begins,” Luna says. She gives them a few days off for Christmas and New Years, with Christmas Eve just a couple days away. But, she wags her finger at them in reminder to not be too lazy in those days, and to try to keep up their exercise regimen as best as possible.

“I’ll see you on Christmas?” Luna says to Raven, who nods in response.

The holidays are always tough. Raven misses her mom terribly, and Luna knows it. Raven had spent Thanksgiving with Sinclair and his wife and kids, all whom Raven adored. It’s become tradition at this point in time, since her mom has now been gone for five years. She’ll be at their house for Christmas morning too, but Luna invited her for dinner this year. Raven’s looking forward to it.

Murphy’s heading to Utah to his grandparents’ house with Emori for Christmas.

“And you’ll be back for New Year’s?” Luna asks him.

“Yes ma’am. I’ll be home the 30th.”

“Good, then we can start skating again on Jan. 2.”

Trust Luna to not waste any time.

Raven and Murphy go to their respective locker rooms to change. She peels her tights off her body and puts on a pair of fleece-lined leggings, socks and her snow boots. She was only heading home, so she just throws her sweater and coat over her top.

Murphy’s waiting for her in the lobby of the rink when she exits the locker room. He’s holding a small box in his hands, shoddily wrapped in gold gift-wrapping paper and topped with a white bow. “Merry Christmas,” he says.

Raven smiles, thanking him as she accepts the gift. “I got you something too.” She pulls out his gift from her bag. She shouldn’t judge his gift-wrapping skills too much, because hers is just as bad. At least he used wrapping paper. She just wrapped hers in newspaper and slapped a red bow on it.

It’s doesn’t matter anyway because he tears into it immediately, unsticking the bow and placing it on top of her head. Nice.

“Ah,” he says, amused. The mug is plain black, accented only by big bold white lettering reading “World’s Okayest Ice Skater.” Murphy turns his head in appreciation. “Best compliment you’ve ever given me.”

“You’re welcome. Now, maybe you can give me my mug back.”

He snorts, and she knows she’s never getting it back. It was a goner the minute he took it from her house in the spring. 

Raven opens hers, and as soon as she sees what he got her, she laughs. It’s an ornament, and well… it’s a Murphy gift alright. It’s a penguin wearing a Santa hat and pink sweater reading “Festive as Fuck,” and she loves it.

She holds it up in the air, pretending to squint between it and him. “It kind of looks like you.”

“Again with the amazing compliments. You’re making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

When she gets home that night, she adds it to her small Christmas tree by the fireplace, right next to one her mom made when Raven was a little girl. It’s a photo ornament, picturing an eight-year-old Raven wearing an orange lycra skating dress, her first gold medal hanging around her neck. Raven is giving the camera a billion-watt smile, even with her missing two front teeth. That photo always made her mom smile.

She hadn’t been the best mom, but she’d done the best she could with all her issues. No matter what, she never missed a competition, and she always made sure Raven had what she needed to skate, even if that meant sewing costumes into the early hours of the morning or skipping out on buying herself new clothes to made sure Raven’s ice time was taken care of.

Raven touches her mom’s favorite ornament, a white sparkling snowflake, front and center on the tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Murphy-Raven friendship is not appreciated enough. Hope you liked this chapter!


	3. 2019: Part I

_New Year’s Day, 2019_

The first thing that goes through her mind as she jolts awake is that it's way too early for her alarm to be going off. Scratch that — she didn’t put an alarm on last night. She’s supposed to have one more “vacation” day before she returns to the ice.

Her cell phone is blaring, and Raven blindly reaches for it in the dark. She’s now coherent enough to realize it’s not her alarm, but her ringtone. Whoever was calling her better have a good reason. That, or they had a death wish. Squinting with the onslaught of brightness from her screen, Raven only grows more confused when she sees Clarke’s caller ID.

“Hello?" she mumbles, her voice laden with sleep. "Clarke, it’s 2 in the morning.”

Wherever Clarke is, it’s loud. Raven holds the phone away from her ear, bothered by the loud bass in the background. Clarke yells into the phone in order to be heard.

“Raven, you need to come down here. It’s Murphy.” Her speech is a bit slurred, Raven notes, yet still, the urgency is enough to get her full attention.

She lifts her torso up the bed. “Murphy? What the hell? Where are you?”

Then suddenly, it’s Bellamy who’s speaking on the phone. She must have passed it to him, and thankfully, he sounds a heck of lot more sober. “We’re at a house party. I’ll text you the address. Murphy’s drunk off his ass, and we didn’t know who else to call.”

“How about his girlfriend?” Raven says, annoyed that this has suddenly become her problem. Simultaneously, she’s also concerned that he’s so drunk that _Bellamy and Clarke_ called her in the first place.

“Yeah, that’s not a good idea. I’ll explain when you get here.”

And so that’s how Raven finds herself driving, in subzero temperatures, to a house in the middle of nowhere on the outskirts of Polis. It’s a large property; the land likely measures several acres from what she can see in the dark. The house itself is a mini-mansion, with a screened wrap-around porch grand enough to make Raven wonder why the hell anyone would spend that much money on an area they could only use in the summer months. People that have a bunch of money to spend, she guesses.

Parked cars spill out onto the front yard, the driveway itself packed. Raven parks her truck on the side of the dirt road leading to the house, not wanting to get caught up in the maze. She would have a long cold walk to the front door anyway.

She wishes she had worn at least a second pair of leggings as her boots crunch in the snow. She’s pulled her coat’s hood over her head, and her knitted headband helps with keeping her ears warm, at least.

There’s several people, all in varied stages of inebriation, scattered throughout the porch. which Raven now sees has a few heating lamps scattered throughout. Money to spend, indeed, she thinks. A couple is making out right next to the front door, and once inside, Raven has to step over a dude sprawled out in the entryway, passed out drunk. In the living room, there’s a small group cheering on a guy doing a keg stand. A group of girls pass around a joint on the staircase.

In and out, Raven thinks. As quickly as possible. Find Bellamy and she’ll find Murphy.

To say this was not her scene was putting it lightly. It wasn’t that she didn’t like crowds, or didn’t like music or dancing or drinking — she liked all those things. But cramming sweaty bodies in a house with the sole purpose to either have sex, get wasted or, worse, post all over Instagram with the intention to brag about their “social life” while having zero actual social interactions… Raven could do without all that.

Someone grazes her elbow and she spins, expecting to see Clarke or Bellamy. Instead, a guy with a beanie and half-lidded red eyes smiles dazedly at her, getting up close to her face. “Hey beautiful. You look lonely tonight.”

“Fuck off,” she says, dismissing him with a push of her hand. As she walks away, he calls her a bitch.

She’s about to call Clarke when she finally spots them in the kitchen. Relief washes over when Bellamy sees her and waves her over. Clarke is sitting on the island, and at first Raven can’t see where Murphy is.

“Thank god you’re here,” Bellamy says.

She approaches and sees Murphy in between Clarke and Bellamy. He’s slumped over the island counter, surrounded by red solo cups and half-empty bottles of alcohol. She would think he was asleep if it wasn’t for the groans and unintelligible phrases he’s uttering into the granite, barely audible over the music.

“What happened” Raven asks, aware that she sounds accusatory even though it wasn’t their job to keep an eye on him. “Murphy?” She grabs the back of his sweater by the collar, and his head lolls, boneless.

He glances up at her with glassy eyes, pupils blown. “Mhm, Reyes. Happy. Fucking New Year.” He raises a red solo cup in the air, and Raven widens her eyes at Bellamy.

“It’s water,” Bellamy reassures her.

“It’s _water?”_ Murphy spits it out, the liquid running down his chin and seeping into the collar of his sweater. He jabs a finger at Bellamy’s chest. “You fucker. You said this was vodka.”

Raven is trying to do her best to stay calm and collected. But this? This was bullshit. Absolute, total bullshit. She chews at her cheek and grabs Bellamy by the elbow. Clarke could keep an eye on Murphy’s drunk ass for a minute.

“What the hell Bellamy.” She pulls him to the hallway outside the kitchen. She motions to the kitchen with her thumb. “What am I supposed to do with _that?_ ”

Bellamy bites at his lip, crossing his arms to mirror her stance. He appears to be considering what to say until he gives up and shrugs. “They broke up.”

Raven just blinks at him, wondering if she heard him right. “What are you talking about?”

“Murphy and Emori. She apparently broke up with him earlier tonight. Murphy showed up half-smashed just before midnight, and it all went downhill from there. We managed to cut him off, but… Well, you saw him.”

“Yeah,” she says with a shake of her head. For a brief second, she considers calling Emori to deal with this, as it was their breakup that got him to this place and she would probably know what to do, how to fix this. But there's a part of her that knows if she did that, she would only be making things worse. Murphy likely wouldn't want Emori to see him in this state.

She lets out a long sigh. “Help me get him to my truck?”

Bellamy nods and they head back to the kitchen, where Murphy is blabbering to Clarke, who is nodding like she understands when in reality, it looks like she’s half-listening as she types on her phone. “Called the Uber,” she tells Bellamy when she looks up. She hops off the counter.

Bellamy hooks one hand underneath Murphy’s armpit and Raven takes the other. Murphy isn’t making this easy on them. He goes limp, protesting as they tear him away from the island.

“Time to go, buddy,” Bellamy says.

Murphy is blubbering, his hair matted to his forehead. “One more drink,” he says.

“I think you’ve had quite enough,” Raven says.

“God Reyes, you’re such a bitch.”

Raven has half a mind to drop him on the floor for that. He would certainly deserve it. “Believe it or not, you’re not the first to call me that tonight.”

Clarke, a lot more sober now than when she first called Raven, frowns. “I’ll get our coats.”

Dressing Murphy is like dressing a toddler. He’s too drunk to understand simple commands like “put your arm here,” yet belligerent enough to resist their maneuvers. Raven is sweating by the time they’re able to put his coat on, and then it’s another journey to her truck.

Halfway there, Murphy vomits onto the snow.

He’s a mess and it scares her. She’s not afraid of Murphy, but she’s afraid of what happened to get him to this point. Selfishly, she’s also scared about what this means for their skating, and for that reason alone, she hopes he and Emori work out whatever issue caused them to break up in the first place.

They were in love. Disgustingly so. Murphy was an attentive boyfriend, one who absolutely adored Emori. Sure, like every couple, they had their issues. She and Murphy don’t really talk about his relationship, so Raven doesn’t have specific details about what problems they had, but 90% of the time they were together, he and Emori seemed happy.

Didn’t they?

Bellamy lifts Murphy into her truck, clicking his seatbelt into place. Murphy looks miserable now, perhaps sobered a bit by the chilling cold. He’s not fighting them off anymore. He just… sits there.

Raven closes the door, and afterward, the three of them stand in the snow, awkwardly.

“Thank you,” she says, “for calling me.” In a lower voice, she asks, “Does this happen a lot?” Raven knows Bellamy and Clarke often went to these kinds of parties, and hoped they’d have some insight.

Clarke shakes her head. “Never this bad. But he’s always been very reliant on Emori. She’s his family.”

Raven understands this more than Clarke ever would. Her heart hurts for Murphy. “Do you know what happened?”

“I think she cheated on him.”

“But we don’t know that for sure,” Bellamy jumps in, articulating clearly that this was pure speculation. “I honestly can’t see that happening.”

“Neither can I, but he kept saying ‘I can’t believe she would do this to me,'” Clarke adds.

For his sake, Raven really hopes there was no cheating involved. That kind of betrayal, coming from not only your significant other but a skating partner, former or not, was brutal. She doesn’t have concrete words to describe the feeling, but she once told Harper it felt like being thrown into a triple twist over cracked ice.

That’s a recurring nightmare Raven had after her fall. The throw triple twist was a scary lift in theory alone, with your body spinning sideways in the air. Your partner has to grab you perfectly by the waist in mid-air in order to bring you safely back to the ground. In her dream, Finn would neglect to do this, and she’d fall hard on her side through the ice, plunging into freezing, murky water. The current would carry her away and she’d bang hard with her fists through the ice as Finn stood on the other side, arms crossed.

So when Murphy starts crying as she drives home, she pretends she doesn’t hear him. If her heart hurt before, it breaks at the sound of his sobs.

Once at her townhouse, she parks her truck inside the garage. She’s able to get him inside on her own, though they make slow progress. She helps him down onto the couch, and brings over a trashcan, placing it beside his head in case he throws up again. At this point, he’s barely conscious, eyelids at half-mast as he fights sleep. His eyelashes, wet with his tears, stick together in clumps. She tugs off his boots, putting them down on the floor farthest away from the trash can. Just in case.

Raven throws a blanket over him, and after thinking it over, she lights the fireplace. She pushes around the fresh logs with her poker, embers burning up in the air like tiny fireflies.

As she’s climbing the stairs to her room, she looks back at Murphy, and stops midway. She glances up at her bedroom door, and knows she can’t sleep in there. She trudges back downstairs, grabs a spare blanket from the linen closet and lays down on the opposite couch.

* * *

Raven doesn’t get much sleep. She laid Murphy down in her long couch, meaning she took the love seat. She’s the kind of sleeper that takes up as much as space as possible, and stretching out on the couch meant her body was contorted in all sorts of awkward shapes.

She should have slept in her own bed. But even the thought felt wrong.

As soon as the morning rays flood into her living room, she finds herself getting up and trudging to the fireplace. The logs have long since turned to ash, so she throws in a few new ones and relights it. On her way to the kitchen, she glances down at the trash can by Murphy’s face. He didn’t use it.

He’s frowning in his sleep. She wonders if that’s something that happens all the time, or if he’s having a bad dream. She resists the urge to smooth away the crease between his brows. One thing was for sure — judging by the amount of alcohol he drank last night, he’s going to feel like death once he wakes up.

Raven starts a pot of coffee, the machine gurgling softly. Within a few minutes, the smell of fresh brew fills her small kitchen. She pours herself a cup as she slices tortillas into triangles.

She gathers an avocado, a couple eggs, onions, jalapeños and a few other key fresh ingredients. Her mom used to swear on her chilaquiles recipe _;_ it cures not only a hangover, but heartbreak too _._ Raven can hear her repeating that phrase in the same spot Raven stands today.

“ _El amor entra por la cocina, mija. Pero tambien ayuda a curar las pendejadas de los hombres.”_

Raven smiles to herself. She flips over the tortillas, her other hand reaching for the bowl of tomatoes she just chopped. There was something satisfying about their sizzle as they fell into the hot frying pan.

She hears a groan, and when she looks up, Murphy is sitting up, holding his head in his hands.

“Good morning, sleeping ugly,” she says. She plates the tortilla slices on two separate plates. “Hope you’re hungry.” She perks up, hoping her feigned cheeriness will rub off on his. “Damn, that rhymed.”

The look he throws her across the room is full of guilt. So… Not picking up on her vibes. Got it.

He rubs at his face. “Fuck, Raven. I—”

She gestures to the hallway behind the stairs with her spatula. “It’s fine. Bathroom’s that way.”

He’s in there for a long time. Raven starts to get worried when she slides the piping hot eggs on top of the chilaquiles, and considers going over to check on him, make sure he hadn’t collapsed on her bathroom floor or something. But he reappears a few seconds later, dragging his heels all the way to her kitchen counter where he takes a seat on a stool, avoiding her eyes all the way.

She puts a plate and cup of coffee in front of him. “Eat,” she instructs.

He picks up a fork and stabs it into the egg. They eat in silence for a bit, the only sound being the crackling of the fire and the scraping of forks against their plates. Raven waits until he’s got some food in his stomach before she asks him about last night.

He knows it’s coming. His shoulders are tense, high up around his ears.

She swallows a bite of her breakfast and wipes her mouth on a napkin. “So… What do you remember?”

Murphy twirls his fork. He runs his tongue over his teeth before clenching his jaw. “Not much.”

“What’s ‘not much?’” she presses. “Do you remember coming here?”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t know where I was until I saw you in the kitchen, honestly.”

Raven nods at this. He likely didn’t remember crying in front of her either then, so she wouldn’t bring that up. “So, what’s the last thing you remember?”

“Emori,” he says. “And then after, some guy at Grizzly’s said Cage Wallace was throwing a New Year’s Eve rager.”

She stops him right there, almost spitting out her coffee. “That was _Cage Wallace’s_ house? As in the _Mt. Weather Wallaces?_ The owners of our fucking rink?” And ski resort, and half-a-dozen properties in the area, but who’s keeping track.

Murphy grimaces. “I assume I was there, yes. I rode with a few people from the bar, had a lot of alcohol and don’t remember shit.” He splays his hands out on the table. “I think that about sums it up.”

“Does it? I think you’re leaving a crucial piece of the puzzle out.” She doesn’t have to say her name for him to know what she’s referring to.

But what he can do is deflect the question. “This is really good, Reyes,” he says. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Murphy.”

He pushes around the tortillas on his plate. “Seriously, best damn breakfast I’ve had in a while, and I’m not just saying that because I’m hungover.”

Raven sighs. If he didn’t want to talk about what happened with Emori, she wasn’t going to force it out of him. She reaches over and pours herself a second cup of coffee.

Skating in pairs was a strange dynamic. This being her first “strictly professional” pairing, she often finds herself wavering as to what lines she shouldn’t cross. Those lines only got further blurred when she factored in that beyond her partner, Murphy is also her friend. A good friend.

She wants to know what’s going on with him emotionally, just like the skating side of her always wants to be in the know if he’s hurting physically. They were a team.

And so when he asks her for a ride to Grizzly’s to pick up his car, she agrees. His car is parked on the outer edge of the bar parking lot, close to the road. Grizzly’s parking area isn’t large, but to be parked this far out must have meant there was quite the crowd for New Year’s Eve.

Raven wouldn’t know either way. Harper had invited her to go partying in Boise with her and her boyfriend Monty, but Raven had turned her down in favor of watching the ball drop from the comfort of her own home. She's glad she did. If she had gone to Boise, she wouldn't have been able to come get Murphy from that party.

Murphy waves to her as he drives off, looking a little less pallid than he did when he woke up. She heads back home and does something that’s been on her to-do list the entire short holiday and she’s been putting off.

A deep clean of her house.

Raven scrubs at virtually every surface, from her tiled bathroom walls that need new grout, to the linoleum floors in her kitchen she’s been itching to replace for ages. Her mom left her the townhouse after she died, which came as no surprise to Raven. This was something her mom fully owned, and thanks to that, Raven didn’t have to worry about mortgage payments. It was old, and in need of renovations, but this townhouse was hers.

The house smells like citrus and Pine-Sol when she’s done, and she collapses on her couch with a sigh. Surely, this had to count for her exercise of the day. Luna had been texting them reminders every other day, along with ideas of what they could do to strengthen what she considered were their weak areas. For Raven, she often sent along a plethora of flexibility exercises for her hips, which were always too tight for Luna’s liking. Murphy had it worse. Luna was on his case about his core and if there was one day Raven hated the most during the week, it was ab day at the training room.

She tells herself she will exercise later in the day, settling into her couch and turning on her TV. Later soon becomes nighttime, and Raven rolls out her yoga mat, wishing for any excuse to not work out. A sudden bout of food poisoning, explosive diarrhea, vertigo — she’ll take anything.

The doorbell rings and Raven believes firmly it is a sign from God himself.

In this earthly paradise, that sign comes in the form of Murphy. He stands in her front door, thumbs tucked into his pockets, wearing an apologetic expression.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” he tells her. The way he looks at her, with the vulnerability of a lost child — perhaps, Raven thinks, how he feels at this moment — there’s no way she could turn him away. As if she ever had the strength to do so.

“You want to come in?” She peers outside at the falling snowflakes, fluttering in the air as they performed their natural dance, and one Raven would have to clean up its aftermath in the morning if she wanted to use her front door again before the spring.

Murphy shifts on one foot. “Actually, I was kind of hoping we could skate.”

“The rink is closed.”

“I wasn’t talking about going to the rink.” He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re too good for ponds now.”

She wasn’t, but it’s been ages. This type of skating was purely recreational, something she hasn’t done since she was a kid and ice skating was a fun after school activity that kept her busy while her mom finished a second waitressing shift at the ski resort’s fancy restaurant. That was back when she could impress her coach by skating backwards and doing a few spins without losing her balance.

It was before toe loops and salchows became part of her everyday vocabulary. When a jump was just that — a jump.

Murphy drives them to the pond in Bardo Park, empty now after dark save for a few couples huddled close together in the sparse benches. They would leave the area soon, once the nighttime chill overcame their need for closeness in the wintry air.

Raven eyes the pond warily, the frozen surface barely illuminated by the florescent lamp post nearby. “Are you sure the ice is thick enough?”

Instead of reassuring her with words, Murphy pulls out his phone and turns on the flashlight, the light reflecting the numerous skate paths carved into the ice. Having put their ice skates on in the car, he simply takes off the guards and stuffs them in his coat pocket. Raven follows his lead, and out of habit, reaches for his hand as they begin to glide across the ice.

He holds it for a second before skating out of her reach, drawing circles around her.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“I’m skating.” Murphy grins at her, picking up momentum as he reaches the middle of the pond before turning his back and doing a messy double axel. Terrible form. Luna would scold him if he did that in practice.

“You call that skating?” Raven says.

He gestures to the open area around them. “I’m on skates and on ice, so yeah. That’s called skating.”

Raven rolls her eyes, skating in his direction. She’ll show him a double axel. She keeps the bend in her knees as she propels forward, spinning so her back was facing him before jumping. She lands effortlessly on the ice, arms positioned correctly to the side.

“So technically precise,” Murphy says. “How boring. Wake me up when you’re ready to have fun.”

She skids to a stop in front of him. “And what does that look like?”

He shrugs. “Whatever the hell we want.”

He proposes a race, one Raven can’t refuse after his endless egging on. Someone had to put him in his place and clearly, this was now her role in life. She should’ve known that he would never play fairly, and when he hip checks her, not hard enough to make her fall, but enough to wobble her balance, she only becomes more motivated to make sure he had his ass handed to him.

She chases after him, gaining enough speed to fling herself on him as he approaches the edge of the pond, her legs wrapping around his waist. Though this catches him by surprise, his gut reaction is to grab her legs to steady her. This proves to be a moot point as they tumble messily into the snow. Neither are wearing waterproof pants, and the cold seeps deep into their limbs.

Raven could care less. She’s laughing too much, to the point that no sound is escaping her lips.

In between his own gasps, Murphy points a finger at her. “That was an illegal move.”

She wheezes, fanning her arms in the powdery snow. “You said,” she says, catching her breath, “To do. Whatever the hell we wanted.”

“Well, you were bound to throw yourself at me at some point.”

Raven shoves his face into the snow. He retaliates by throwing a snowball at her while she runs away onto the ice. He chases her, and they skate loops around each other. They’re not perfect; the trails left behind by their skates don’t create the figure eights that would earn them points in competition. Their jumps are not as high as they should be, and there is no choreographer that would ever allow Murphy to do the Rasputin routine from Just Dance. He was suspiciously good at it too.

When the discomfort of being cold and wet from their roll in the snow takes over, they hobble back to his car, changing out of their skates and into boots as Murphy blasts his heater. His nose and cheeks are red from the cold, and he rubs his hands in front of the vents to warm them.

For a while there, Raven forgot all about the events earlier in the day. He was good about that — creating distractions.

They go through the McDonald’s drive-thru in town, and Murphy buys them a couple of hot chocolates and Big Mac meals. He hands Raven the grease-stained bag, parking in the lot in front of the building.

Raven picks at her burger, noticing the generous amount of special sauce peeking through. Murphy notices, observant as ever.

“It’s just a burger, Raven. You’re not going to gain 100 pounds overnight.”

“It’s not that,” she says, a slow smile spreading over her face. “It’s just… This is the first thing I did when Finn and I broke up.”

He takes a big bite of his hamburger. “Get a Big Mac?” He sounds surprised, as if getting fast food wasn’t totally out of his wheelhouse. Most figure skaters were pretty diligent about their diet, especially women. Call it sexism, but the ISU had a specific standard in mind when it came to their female Olympians. It’s why Clarke spent many post-skating sessions crying in the locker room the summer her breasts grew in.

“Finn never let me eat fast food,” she admits. “He would tell on me in a heartbeat if he found out, and Diana would always give me an earful. God, I hated that woman." She lets her head fall back on the neck rest, suppressing a shudder that always surfaces when she thinks of her former coach. "So when we were over, I ate three in one sitting. Needless to say, my stomach was very angry at me. I ended up throwing them all up on the way home.”

“Moderation is key,” he says. “Though, don’t take advice from me. I eat these once a week.”

She swallows a bite of fries, the salt sticking to her fingertips as she reaches for another one. “Emori didn’t mind?”

He doesn’t say anything at first, but then, he shakes his head. “No. She didn’t mind.”

Raven reaches out for him, her pinky finger grazing the back of his hand. He turns his face toward her, and his eyes look unfathomably deep, the blue muted in the darkness of his car.

“Are you okay?”

He smiles bitterly at this. “No, I’m not.”

“Maybe you guys can talk it out,” she offers with a tilt of her head. She doesn’t like seeing him like this, so deflated and resigned. It’s so unlike the guy that was skating with her earlier.

Again, Murphy answers with a shake of his head. “It’s okay. I knew it was coming sooner or later. We want different things.”

She’s not sure what convinced him to confide in her, whether it was because she pressed the matter, or whether because he was ready. Regardless, he tells her of what happened on New Years Eve.

Murphy and Emori went to celebrate at Grizzly’s. She told him she applied for college. He was happy for her. She revealed that she’s been accepted at New York University, and in the same sentence, told him that she was moving in a couple of days for the start of the spring semester. She didn’t ask him to go with her, and Murphy said that was that.

“You know, there is a thing called long distance,” Raven says. Murphy and Emori loved each other. Why would they give that up without fighting? She knew it wasn’t her place, but that’s exactly what she thought. If Raven had someone who loved her as much as Murphy loved Emori… she wouldn’t let that go so easily. 

“I hate New York City,” he says. “It stinks, there’s garbage everywhere, and rats the size of chihuahuas.”

“But you love her.”

He takes a long swig of his hot chocolate, now that it’s cooled enough to not burn his tongue. She watches as his jaw tightens, lips pursed. He lets out a long exhale. “Yes, I do. But to tell you the truth Reyes, we’ve been in a long-distance relationship since she quit skating. I’m done.”

Raven lets this sink in, thinking back to all the comments he’s made in the past nine months. All the nights Emori flaked on him last minute. All the ballet classes Murphy skipped trying to spend time with her. The odd remarks Emori would say sometimes when they all hung out. On in particular has always stood out — they were hanging out at Murphy's apartment, talking about the upcoming competition season, and Emori mentioned she was glad Murphy had Raven. That they would need each other more in the near future. It's obvious now that Emori had applied to college and planned to move away for a long time, and that she kept that from him.

She still wasn’t convinced they were truly over, but only time would tell.

* * *

_February 2019_

Raven could always tell whether she and Murphy would have a good training day, or a bad one, by the way he entered the rink. She always got there early, with plenty of time to set her stuff in the locker room and put on her skates before waiting for him by the ice.

On good days, he came in with his hair perfectly askew, hands tucked inside his jacket pockets. He would wink at her while teasing Luna about whatever flew into his brain at that moment — something that happened the night before at a ballet class, or some snarky remark at some video she sent him. He’d take her hand and they would warm up together on the ice.

On very good days, Murphy would come in with a drink carrier full of hot coffees and a bag of donut holes. It would delay their start time, but Luna loved donut holes. It was bound to put her in a good mood for the rest of the morning.

But on bad days? Murphy came in late. Sometimes as much as a half-hour late. It didn’t matter how productive their ice time was after this, it ruined the whole day, as did his horrible attitude. Those were the days Raven hated the most, the ones she and Murphy would argue about by the locker rooms afterward. Lately, there have been more bad days than good days.

Today was a bad day, and Murphy's unenthusiastic approach to training has Luna walking out midway through their ice time. With Bellamy and Clarke sharing the ice, it sends a wave of embarrassment coursing through her. Luna does return, but she's one breath away from calling it quits on the ice for the day. She does, however, cancel their training on the mats.

Afterward, Raven confronts Murphy by the lockers, and as always, he expected it, lingered behind to give her time to reach him after he stormed out of the rink. He faces her, both of them leaning against the wall.

“You can’t keep doing this,” she tells him, her voice only loud enough for his ears. In this rink, there are always people listening.

“Sorry I was late,” he says, but his sarcastic delivery makes his apology fall flat.

“At least you don’t have any bullshit excuses this time.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, eyebrows arched. “Yeah well.. You made it very clear last time that you don’t give a shit.”

“I _do_ give a shit,” she says. “Do you?”

He raises his hands in surrender and walks out. She bangs her fist against her forehead. Frustrated didn’t begin to explain how she was feeling.

That night, he skips their ballet class. When that ends, she sits in her truck, contemplating the events of last month. She can’t keep up with his highs and lows, oftentimes hours apart. He gives her whiplash, and on days like today, where he can’t be bothered to even pretend to care about their skating, she gets nervous. Come competition season, could she trust him?

She trusted pre-breakup Murphy, wholeheartedly and without a doubt once she allowed herself to. But post-breakup Murphy was volatile and Ravens knows full well that all it takes is one misstep. She's already felt herself clam back up when they practiced lifts. 

To complicate matters further, at the heart of it was the fact that Murphy was her friend. It hurt her to see him hurting, and he was. But she wasn’t about to be dragged down with him. She didn't need another scar on her head.

She makes a split-second decision and drives in the opposite direction of home.

Murphy lived in one of the apartment by the Albertsons, a complex made up of six stony-sided structures, more cookie-cutter than anything else on the mountain. They were relatively new, built in the last four years or so, and it showed. Raven wonders if Murphy’s neighbors ever heard him fight with Emori. Maybe, they could provide more insight into the situation.

His apartment always felt cold. Sparsely decorated with only the necessary furniture, which for some reason included a plastic lawn chair in the living room, it was clear Murphy didn’t spend much time trying to make his place feel like home. Raven always thought it seemed a tad impersonal, with its strong smell of plywood and freshly-vacuumed carpet and lack of photos on the wall. The only thing that screamed Murphy was his welcome mat.

_No Seriously. Go away._ In black bold lettering against the coir mat.

She knocks on the door, and hearing no response, she tries again, harder this time. Raven saw his car parked in his designated spot. Unless he had gotten a ride with someone, he was home. And she was fired up enough to be willing to sit right on his stupid mat until he returned.

She’s in the process of knocking a third time when the door flies open. She takes in his state, bedraggled clothing and hair sticking up in different directions. His eyes are bloodshot and Raven angers spikes.

“How dare you.”

He sways on his feet, bracing himself against the doorframe. “Wha-what are you talking about?”

She can smell the alcohol on his breath, and she recoils away from him.

“We had a class tonight,” she says, and he shrugs.

“I skipped.”

Raven pushes her way into his apartment, and he sidesteps at the last minute to allow her to do so, closing the door behind her. Her eyes land on the empty bottles lining his kitchen counters, the boxes of pizza strewn about the room. It no longer smells like impersonal plywood in her, but like sweat and grease. Raven scrunches up her nose.

“This is disgusting,” she says.

He takes a look around the room, frowning approvingly. “Is it? It looks fine to me.”

“Murphy this isn’t you.” She’s aware her voice is starting to sound like she’s pleading, though at this point, she’s unsure as to what she’s asking for. Not… whatever this was.

She doesn’t like the mean grin that appears on his face when she says that. He strides over to the kitchen and pours himself the remnants of a bottle of Jack Daniels into a plastic solo cup. Is this what bad days looked like outside of the rink?

He hisses after he downs the amber liquid in one go. “This is me, Reyes. All me.”

“You’re drunk.”

He passes her on the way to the small living room. “Smart observation. Knew you weren’t just a looker.”

“Oh _fuck_ off.”

He sits down on his plastic lawn chair, tucking his arms behind his head. “If you came here to yell at me about missing fucking ballet, go ahead. No really, please tell me what a piece of shit I am. I’m sure it will be enlightening.”

Was there a word for when you’re angry with someone, and at the same time worried about the path they were on? For when there’s a knot at the base of your throat and your blood is boiling? Because that’s what she felt like at that moment. No matter what she said, Murphy would either forget it in the morning or use it to further his self-wallowing.

She refused to be a part of that. She marches over to the kitchen and opens cupboards at random, looking for anymore alcohol he could have stashed somewhere. In his drunken state, he only registers what she’s doing when she’s pouring a bottle of vodka and rum down the kitchen drain.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he yells, tripping over himself in his rush to stop her. Too late. Raven slams the empty bottles on the counter to join the others and heads to the fridge, targeting the Heinekens lines up in the center rack.

He grabs her wrists at first to stop her, but she elbows him away, and he’s not drunk enough to even think to forcefully stop her. It was a gamble she took, because it could have easily gone the other way.

“Pour it all down,” he says. “I’ll just buy some more.”

“Be my guest,” Raven says. She throws the bottles in his trash can, the glass clattering against each other on the plastic bag. “But just know that if you do, I won’t be waiting on the ice for you.”

* * *

When her alarm rings the next morning at 4 a.m., Raven almost hits snooze. She sinks back into her mattress, and after a moment’s hesitation, she turns it off. There were two things she was unsure of this morning going into their ice time: 1) Whether Murphy would show up, and 2) whether she actually wanted him to.

It would serve him right for him to show up to practice and she not be there. Maybe it would be a wake-up call for him, though… If the events of last night hadn’t performed that function, Raven is afraid their partnership is over.

She could tolerate a lot of things in the world of figure skating. Finn’s dictation over her diet, his adamance that they not fraternize with competitors, the bullshit scores from the ISU judges because her costume lacked the thousand-dollar price tag they sought, the soreness in her body from skating for hours. Raven could handle all of that, and did so in the past.

But she will not skate with a drunk partner. Raven wasn’t stupid. Last night hadn’t been an exception. Murphy has been having these benders since he and Emori broke up. She’d just turned a blind eye to it, believing that if she ignored the behavior, it would go away — that Murphy simply needed time to heal.

She arrives at the ice rink 30 minutes before their ice time is scheduled to begin, per usual. The parking lot is often empty at this hour, save for the ski resort staff that began working at the early hours of the morning to begin preparations for the day.

However today, she is greeted by a figure standing outside his vehicle, hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

Murphy looks apologetic, and a bit embarrassed. He offers an awkward smile when she gets out of her truck.

“You’re here early,” she says. She keeps her tone neutral, but anger simmers within her at the sight of him. Hurt too.

He gestures to the rink with his hand still in his pocket, his jacket expanding and exposing the shearling liner.

“Can we talk?” He looks at her, and yet not quite, almost like he’s staring through her. He kicks at the snow at their feet. “I know you’re angry at me.”

“That’s one way to put it,” she says, wrapping her arms around herself. She can feel the chill seep into her bones. “Well, you wanted to talk… So talk.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “For yesterday, for dropping the ball this year. I’m not going to pretend I’ve been the perfect teammate ever, but I know I’ve been a shithead. It’s just…” he shakes his head, fixated on a point beyond her head. “I don’t even know who I am without her.”

If there was a point where Raven understood him more than he knew, it was now. No one outside the pair figure skating world would ever understand, but to perform well together, your bond had to be strong. There was a reason why many pairs ended up dating, or married like Murphy’s parents had been. Your partner became the person to know you the best — the way your body moves, the way your brain is wired, your anxieties, your weaknesses, your strengths.

When Raven lost that with Finn, it felt like her soul had cracked in half.

“Anyway,” he continues. “It’s not going to happen again.”

“What’s not going to happen again?” She needed him to say the words. She needed to hear it from his own mouth.

“I’m not going to let you down again.” This time, he does look her straight in the eye, and he doesn’t waver. “I promise.”

She can feel the sincerity in his words, and it wells her eyes with tears. She is thankful for the cold now. It is keeping them at bay. “Okay,” she says.

“Do you believe me?” He asks. Perhaps she was harder to read than she thought. In her mind, her emotions were clear as day.

She nods. “I believe in _us._ As a team.” She nods to the rink. "We should get inside." As they walk together, she adds, "You didn't have to wait for me out in the cold, you know?"

Murphy shrugs. "I made you a promise." This time when he looks at her, she feels hope. "We'd never skate mad."

* * *

_April 2019_

Luna’s choice of choreographer for their short and long programs this competition season is… particular.

The man’s Russian accent made everything that came out of his mouth sound gruff, rivaling even Luna’s sometimes testy coaching. Raven forgot his name the second he introduced himself, too focused on how tight his pants were. Like, he had to pad. There was no way.

“Your sit spins are shit,” he tells them one morning after they’ve run their free skate routine. Luna nods in agreement.

Luna’s picked “Circles,” by Greta Svabo Bech, a remix based on Ludovico Einaudi’s “Experience,” for their long program. It’s an emotional routine, and Luna has talked about dressing Murphy and Raven in shades of grey to symbolize the ashes mentioned in the lyrics. Their choreographer has taken the “burning down” concept and ran with it — aside the side-by-side sit spins, he’s also included a death spiral, where Murphy holds Raven up by her arm as she glides on the ice by the edge of her skate, her body parallel to the ground.

It is a routine full of beautiful lifts though. The lasso lift, where Murphy is holding her up by just her hand, her legs outstretched and chest uplifted. It’s a scary and difficult move, but if they want to make it to Nationals this year, they need all the advantages they can get.

Which includes nailing their sit spins.

“What’s wrong with them?” Murphy says as he catches his breath, his hands on his hips. “I thought they were pretty good.”

The choreographer frowns. “Pretty good _is_ shit. I need perfection.”

Luna waves her hand. “Let’s run that section again. No music. Starting with the chasse.”

Raven and Murphy exchange a look, both exhausted as they neared the end of their ice time for the morning. On the other side of the rink, Bellamy and Clarke executed flawless butterfly jumps. Damnit.

So they run it again.

* * *

_June 2019_

When it came to her job, the summer months were slow. It was both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing, because her work revolved more around repairing winter equipment, along with looking ahead at what demo skis and snowboards they could order for the next season, a job Raven thoroughly enjoyed. But it was a curse because summer customers loved to ask questions.

The winter crowd was always in a rush to get to the slopes. Some first-timers might have a few questions as they rented equipment, but they wanted to be on their way just as much as you wanted them to be so that you could tend to the next customer.

The summer crowd was different, always wanting to know Raven’s opinions on the best hiking trail, or whether they needed bear spray, which in her humble opinion, was never a bad idea to have nearby on the mountain.

It’s not that their questions were annoying. It’s that by the fifth person that asks her the same goddamn thing, Raven is at the point where she is ready to rip her hair out.

So when the bell above the door rings five minutes before she’s set to clock out, she stifles a groan. She sees a guy, handsome with skin the color of toffee, and an equally sweet grin to match. He holds her gaze with his deep chocolate eyes.

“Welcome to Jacapo Outfitters,” she greets. “How may I be of service?” Her question trails off when he reaches for a trail map. “Or you can help yourself,” she mutters under her breath.

He gives her a crooked smile. “Sorry, I know you’re about to close. I just came in for this.” He holds up the map.

“If you’re interested in hiking, the North Star trail is pretty popular. Easy terrain,” she offers, figuring she might as well say it before he asks.

“I’m actually not much of a hiker,” he says. “Mountain biking, on the other hand.”

“Well you’ve come to the resort at the right time of year.” But if he wanted a bike rental, he’s tough out of luck. Their inventory is running low, and the bikes she does have are reserved for tomorrow’s guests. He’d have to check in tomorrow morning.

“To be honest, I’m looking forward to the winter season,” he says and she blinks in surprise. He must’ve noticed, because he explains himself. “I’m not a guest at the resort. I’m a pilot — got a job with Eligius Adventures.”

The helicopter tour company. Guess that means he’s sticking around for a while.

She extends out a hand. “I’m Raven.”

His handshake is firm, confident. “Miles, but everyone calls me by my last name. Shaw.” He notices the clock above her head and begins to backtrack toward the entrance of the store. “I won’t keep you any longer, but thanks for this,” he says, holding the trail map in the air. “I hope to see you around sometime.”

She lets a slow smile appear on her lips, satisfied when his eyes draw down to her mouth.

“Yeah. Sometime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! Hope you all are staying safe. As always, thanks for reading.


	4. 2019: Part II

_July 2019_

Sex with Shaw was easy. His body was unbelievable, abs a washboard under her hands, and she could feel his years of training as a Navy Seal in the muscles of his arms — biceps that never shook with effort when he held himself above her. He made everything look straightforward. They only went on one date before they jumped into bed together, and who could blame her? He was a smooth talker, though sincere in his praises, and she was more than ready to be with a man again.

Plus, it had been one hell of a date. What girl gets to tour her hometown on a helicopter, right at sunset? The experience had been exhilarating, and once back down on the ground, she found she couldn’t keep her hands, or lips, off of him. It had been a struggle just waiting to get to his place.

And yet, ending her two-year dry spell felt underwhelming. The first time they slept together, Shaw rolled off her body after he finished, thinking she had too. That was her fault though. She faked it, not wanting to ruin the mood after a good first date, and knowing within a minute of him being inside her that she was not going to climax.

It's not that he was bad in bed. They’ve had some fun times in the time they’ve known each other. Raven smiles when she recalls how he fucked her from behind in one of the ski resorts bathroom during the Fourth of July celebration, the sound of exploding fireworks masking their moans. That had been one hell of a night.

Now, lying in her bed, a little sweaty from their latest romp, Shaw trails his hand over her exposed hip. He circles the small bruises on her skin, so softly it almost tickles.

“You get all of these from skating?”

“Unless you’ve been rough with me,” she teases, and he chuckles.

He flattens his palm on a spot near her waist. “These look gnarly.”

She lifts her head to see which he’s referring to. When he moves his hand, she sees the four circles, reddish and darkening to an eggplant hue. Raven knows there is a matching set on her other side, as well as two thumbprints on her back.

She and Murphy have started practicing twist lifts this week. They’re nowhere near ready to showcase them in competition, but Luna has been pushing them on that front for the last several weeks. Both their programs include them, and short-term, if they want to make it past sectionals, they will need to know how to execute a seamless twist lift.

It’s a new frontier for both of them. Murphy has performed them in competition, but he had to relearn it now with Raven. Her body moved differently than Emori's, and while Raven had performed them in the past with Finn as well, she also had to learn how Murphy's hands operated, how they felt on her waist. Hence, the bruises as he practices catching her in midair. Raven doesn’t mind them — she’d rather he hold her too tightly than too loosely.

Raven smiles at Shaw, pulling his hand away from her body. “They’re nothing,” she says. “I’m a badass, I can take it.”

A slow grin spreads over his lips. “I’m dating an Olympic figure skater. Guess bruises come with the territory, huh?”

She laughs. “Not an Olympian — _yet_.”

“Still impressive.” His eyes droop, and he somehow still manages to look handsome. "You're impressive."

Her phone vibrates on the nightstand and she cranes her head to see who’s calling. Murphy’s name lights up the screen, in the foreground of a selfie they took after their Outlander program last year. The photo, with Murphy pretending to be annoyed as she sticks her tongue out, always makes her smile.

“Reyes,” Murphy says, sounding relieved that she picked up. “Please tell me you’re not doing anything right now.”

“No I’m not doing anything right at this very second,” she answers, casts a cursory glance behind her shoulder at Shaw, who silently asks her who was calling. “It’s Murphy,” she says aloud.

“Oh, you’re not alone?”

“No, I’m with Shaw.”

“Ah.” He falls silent for a beat. “Sorry, didn’t mean to… you know… interrupt or anything.”

Raven smiles, clutching her sheet higher over her breasts. “You’re not. What’s up?”

“Just wanted to see if you were free in exactly 34 minutes. Bellamy bailed on me. We were supposed to watch Lion King together tonight, but Clarke invited him over to dinner at her mom’s. Only he informed me of this _after_ I bought his ticket.”

She lowers her phone to glance at the time. She could hop in the shower now and make it in time. “I’ve never been one to turn down a free movie,” she tells him.

Murphy snorts. “Who said anything about free? I expect you to Venmo me the money. It's a $20 IMAX ticket.”

“I’ll buy popcorn,” she offers. He never turned down food. "That's about the same price anyway. We'll split a combo."

She can hear the sounds of traffic as he pretends to consider her trade. He must be outside the theater now. Trust Murphy to be early to a movie and virtually late everywhere else.“…Deal.”

They say their goodbyes and Raven gets out of bed, wrapping her body in her cotton robe. It’s then she realizes Shaw is staring expectantly at her.

“Murphy invited me to the movies, want to come?” she asks. “We’re seeing Lion King.”

She invites him to be polite, but part of her hopes he doesn’t want to come. He hasn’t met Murphy yet, and somehow, Raven thinks her partner won’t think too highly of Shaw if he begins to grope her right under his nose in the darkness of the theater, which with Shaw was always a possibility. They were just at that stage of their relationship.

Shaw scoffs in response, shaking his head as he begins to dress.

“No,” he says. “You go. Have fun.”

And that was it, though Raven sees he is visibly annoyed, and his tone of voice oozed passive aggressiveness. She debates whether she should ask him what was wrong, but she already had an inkling. She probably would have reacted the same way in his shoes. Maybe it made her a bad person to cut their evening short like she just had, but she didn’t feel like laying in bed for the rest of the night. She wanted to see her friend. Shaw was still new in the area, and Raven hopes that once he makes friends of his own, things would fix themselves.

But that was the thing with Shaw. Sex was easy. Communication? Not so much.

* * *

Murphy breaths a sigh of relief when he sees her walking over. He waves, hurrying her along until she is half-jogging.

“The previews are starting in five,” he says, handing her a ticket. He hates missing them.

“You go on ahead, get us seats. I’ll get the popcorn,” she tells him. The attendant rips the top of her ticket and lets her inside.

He nods and makes a beeline straight toward the theater rooms. “Get good seats!” she shouts after him, and he gives her a thumbs up.

The Regal theater, the only movie theater in Polis, has looked the same for as long as Raven can remember. Neon lights border the walls, casting the small concession stand area in a purple and red haze with the waning sunset. The floor is tacky under her feet, god knows from what, and the smell of buttery popcorn wraps her up in a bout of nostalgia.

She and her mom used to go to the movies all the time. It was the perfect escape for them both. For Raven, it was time away from the ice and gymnastics and whatever other class her mom had enrolled her in. And for her mom, it was time she could shut off her brain, forget about how she was going to pay for her ice time or materials for her next costume, and live vicariously through whoever was onscreen.

Raven thanks the concession attendant when he slides over her large bucket of popcorn and equally enormous cup of coke. Last minute, she glances at the candy display and asks for a box of junior mints.

The theater room is packed, for local standards. Usually, unless it was opening night, most showings only had a handful of people scattered in the lumpy seats. Honestly, even the IMAX theater was a little shabby, though the red leather seats are new. Definitely an upgrade. Today, there are several rows of moviegoers filling the two columns of seats, and Raven almost walks by Murphy, who is sitting closest to the wall on the left side. She shuffles in front an older man and his wife before settling down next to Murphy.

“It’s full tonight,” Raven whispers. The screen is playing a trailer for the Maleficent sequel.

Murphy grabs a handful of popcorn. “It’s _Lion King_ ,” he says, as if that’s the obvious answer. He does a double take when he sees the junior mints. “Aw hell yeah. You’re spoiling me, Reyes.”

She snatches the box out of his hands. “They’re for later.” She sticks a second straw on the coke and offers it to him. He takes a sip without hesitation. Junk food would forever be Murphy’s kryptonite.

Raven isn’t a big fan of animated movies, even though technically, this one is a “live action.” There’s so much CGI she still considers it a cartoon. The reason she accepted Murphy’s invite wasn’t because she was dying to watch Lion King. She just likes spending time with him.

She likes the stupid jokes he whispers to her, perfectly timed to make her laugh. She likes how he isn’t a popcorn bucket stealer, but instead grabs whatever he’s going to eat by the handful. And she likes how engrossed Murphy gets when watching movies; for a couple hours, his face is lit up by more than just the screen.

It reminds her of going to the movies with her mom, in an odd way.

The lobby glows an eerie red by the time the movie ends. Murphy’s animatedly talking about the movie, pointing out a few scenes that matched exactly with its animated predecessor, his hand movements emphasizing his sentences. At the far end of the lobby, a lone worker sweeps the floor.

The air is crisp for a July night when they exit the building. They walk together to the small parking lot.

Murphy clears his throat, appearing to have wrapped up his comments about the movie. Not that she minded. His excitement, similar to that of a young kid’s, was contagious.

“Thanks for coming tonight, by the way,” he says. “I know you were with Shaw and everything but…” he shrugs as he trails off, hands tucked into his pockets. “Yeah.”

Ever eloquent. But Raven understood him.

“All Shaw and I ever do is have sex,” she says, a half-joke that hit a little harder than she thought when spoken aloud, even by her.

Murphy raises his eyebrows. “That’s one way to stay in shape, I suppose.”

She punches him in the arm lightly. “That’s what I have you for, ice buddy.”

He feigns surprise. "But we don't have sex," he says and she nudges him off the sidewalk into the grass.

Their juvenile sides win out, something Raven never lets loose anymore. Murphy just made her comfortable enough to do so. She runs away from Murphy, who gleefully gives chase. Unfortunately for Raven’s ego, Murphy is much faster, and he picks her up by the waist and swings her around in the air.

“Damnit,” she says when he laughs, placing her down on the ground. “You’re so annoying.”

“Don’t play games with me you can’t win,” he calls over his shoulder before spinning around and walking backward to his car. “See you on the ice, Reyes.”

When she gets to her truck, she realizes he took her half-empty box of junior mints.

* * *

August _2019_

This year, they’ll be doing their short program at the annual ice show, a passionately choreographed tango-inspired routine full of close holds and elegant spins.

“I want to see flames on the ice after you’re done,” Luna had told them earlier in the year.

It’s a fun a routine, probably the most fun she’s done in ages. The slow, steady beat of the tango is perfect to skate to, and every time she lands a jump — whether in throw or side-by-side with Murphy — feels right. This is the routine where they have another death spiral, a required element, as well as a lasso lift. A twist lift too, and these days, Raven is sporting less bruises to show for their practices. Though they're stickling with doubles instead of triples for that one. 

It’s critical that they execute the seven required elements seamlessly to stay on track with their end goal, but beyond the technical, it’s a chance to beef up their interpretation score before their free skate. All the hand flourishes and touches mattered, and today, something was off in that regard.

Murphy, often fully committed to whatever role Luna asked him to play in a skate, is playing coy. The routine is supposed to open with Raven beckoning him to follow her with a caress down the side of his cheek, and he’s meant to grab her wrist and pull her close, his other hand drawing a steady line up her thigh.

Today, he barely touches her skin, and after the second run through, Raven knows why.

Shaw is watching their practice for the first time. She had invited him to, figuring it was easier to show him what she was working on rather than explain it, and for some reason, it’s messing with Murphy’s form. Luna stops them midway through the tango and without explaining why, asks them to run it again from the top.

“What are you doing?” Raven whispers to Murphy while they get in position.

“Your pilot is staring daggers at me,” Murphy hisses. “I can’t concentrate.”

“Who _cares?”_ She extends her arm in the air, waiting for the music cue. “Just do it right.” She’s thinking it was a mistake to invite her not-quite-boyfriend today. They can’t waste practices this close to Sectionals.

He curses in her ear, and this time when the music starts and he pulls her into his chest, he doesn’t hold back. His fingers dig into her thigh.

They run through their sequence this time without interruption. Raven wobbles a bit in her triple salchow, her hand brushing the ice as she avoids a near fall. Murphy steadies her when he takes hold of her, one hand on her waist and the other on the inside of her knee as they lean on the ice. Her chest is heaving against Murphy’s when they finish in the nose-to-nose dipped embrace.

“Beautiful,” Luna says with a clap. They skate over to her and she rattles of the notes she’s taken. “Murphy, again how many times do I have to say it — watch your arms. And Raven, we need to quicken those revolutions so you avoid that tumble. We can’t afford losing technical points for touching the ice. The judges could classify that as a fall.”

She gives them a water break and they put their skate guards on to hop off the rink. Octavia is practicing this evening and her coach has been waiting patiently to run her programs with music.

Raven gulps down water and takes a seat at the bleachers. She spots Shaw making his way down to them, and Murphy groans under his breath.

“Be nice,” she mutters to him.

Shaw gives Murphy a nod and holds out his hand. Murphy, who looks like he’d rather eat his own hand, shakes Shaw’s. The handshake lasts longer than normal, and Raven rolls her eyes. She’s too tired to deal with man drama at the moment.

There’s a reason why they hadn’t met until now. Raven put it off as long as she could, and she’s glad she did. Shaw always reacted in a weird way when she talked about Murphy; he cracked his knuckles a lot, and his sentences became snippy, almost subtly accusing her of cheating on him with Murphy. He didn't understand that their partnership was purely professional, that Murphy didn't touch her just to touch her. Every movement meant something. 

Raven stopped mentioning a lot of her skating life to Shaw because of this. How could she describe what she did during the day without bringing Murphy up?

“You guys look good out there,” Shaw says and Raven smiles appreciatively. She gets a fleeting hope that he is trying, but that hope is quickly smashed when he turns to Murphy.

He clears his throat. “You know, you should leave a bit more space between you and Raven when you’re skating. That’s probably why she fell. I may not be a skater, but I’m a pilot — I know all about aerodynamics."

Oh god. Raven stares wide eyed at her partner when she realizes that Shaw actually said that. He not only blamed Murphy for her mistake, but he gave him unsolicited advice on something he knows absolutely nothing about. If anything, they should be skating closer, not farther apart.

Murphy’s fuming. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip as he lets out an incredulous scoff. There’s no telling how he’ll respond, but Raven hopes he doesn’t give Shaw a tongue lashing so hard the man walks out of the rink with his tail tucked between his legs. Even though, it would be warranted. Shaw has never put a pair of ice skates on.

She should jump in before Murphy says anything. She opens her mouth, but she’s too late.

“Thank you for the tip,” Murphy says, and the sarcasm that drips from that sentence alone makes Raven wince. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind for next time.”

"No problem man," Shaw says. "I saw that video of those skaters who got injured on YouTube. The guy hit her with the skate in the face. Wouldn't want that to happen to my beautiful girl."

This time she does jump in. "That's inappropriate," Raven tells Shaw. "You need to check yourself."

Shaw tilts his head in disbelief, but thankfully, Luna returns, interrupting anything else that could come out of his mouth as she ushers them back onto the ice. That couldn't have gone worse. Beyond the unsolicited advice, he just warned Murphy about hurting her. Seriously, what the fuck, she thinks. 

“I’m going to bash his head into the ice,” Murphy mutters to her, taking her hand once she’s removed her skate guards. “I swear to fucking God—”

She shushes him and runs her thumb against his palm. “Ignore him. Let’s just do our thing.”

He takes a deep breath, looking at her through the corner of his eye. “Next time, it’s his funeral.”

* * *

_October 2019_

The Great Park Ice Arena in Irvine, California, has more bells and whistles than they have back at their home rink. Modern, with sloping arches and 360 degree seating, it made the perfect venue to hold the Sectionals pairs challenge, as far as the ISU was concerned.

The trip here was a long one, a little over 13 hours in a car with Luna and Murphy. Luna insisted on driving, which meant Raven and Murphy not only had to worry about the fact they were headed toward their first competition as a new official pair, but also about Luna’s _awful_ driving. The woman had road rage like Raven had never seen before. Murphy spent the whole ride clutching the grab handle above his window. Served him right for calling shotgun and leaving Raven in the backseat.

Things could have been worse though. The weather in California is much warmer than back home, and Raven soaked in as much sunshine as she could when they got to their hotel.

Also, Shaw could have come along with them, per the initial plan. But he had to back out when he was hired last minute to charter a couple and their officiant to the top of Mt. Weather, where they planned to elope. It was terribly romantic, and the money was so good Shaw couldn’t turn it down — Raven wouldn’t have let him.

She also hated to admit that she would probably skate better without him watching Murphy’s every move. Unsurprisingly, neither men could stand to be in the same room as each other for very long, and with every passing month, her feelings for Shaw deepened, and it became harder and harder.

Shaw was her boyfriend, and when things were good, they were really good. But Murphy was so much more than just her friend, as Shaw so often liked to call him. If he made her choose between them… She would choose Murphy.

She hopes it doesn’t come to that, because she is falling for Shaw. How could she not? He was charming, adventurous and spontaneous. Raven loved that about him. He brought her cookies at midnight the other night when she mentioned she had a craving, and sends her “Good morning beautiful” texts every single morning, even when he was lying beside her.

All around her are female skaters getting ready for the competition. Raven spots Clarke emerging from the rows of lockers, clad in a pale blue illusion skating dress. Her hair is up in a low bun, loose tendrils framing her face.

“You look nice,” Raven says. "Very Cinderella."

"We are skating to 'So this is love,'" Clarke smiles. “You look beautiful too. Love the yellow on you.”

“Luna’s pick.” Since her free skate costume was grey, her coach wanted bright colors for their short program, much to Murphy’s displeasure. If the man could wear black pants and a white shirt for every skate, he would. Her skating costume, a canary yellow flowy piece with a high neck, was meant to perfectly match Murphy’s initial white pants and matching yellow long-sleeved shirt, so tight on his body it looked painted on.

Alas, Murphy was a big baby and he whined so much about the stupid costume that Luna relented and allowed him to swap his shirt for a black one—albeit, he couldn’t get out of it having gold rhinestones imbedded. Thanks to him they look like bumblebees. Typical.

But if Murphy wasn’t happy, nobody would be. Call it a… quirk of his.

“You guys are going to kill it,” Clarke whispers conspiratorially.

“Says the ones to beat,” Raven counters with a wink.

She turns back to the mirror to finish her makeup, and meets the eyes of the one woman she was hoping to avoid.

She knew Finn would be here, competing in the same circuit since he couldn’t be bothered to move farther away than Boise. It’s a fact she’s tried not to think about that too much on the days leading up. She managed to avoid them yesterday during practice, and she was praying she would be able to do the same today by at least bypassing any face-to-face interactions. She could watch him on the ice, but she’d rather not speak to him.

Finn hasn’t called her since the night they argued about Murphy. He was always easily influenced and she suspects his lack of contact was brought on by his coach. After all, Diana Sydney was the one who hammered home the idea against fraternizing with the enemy, and as Raven is no longer his partner, and skating with someone else, she now falls in that category.

Amber, his partner, shimmies up to the counter, washing her hands in the sink and toweling them off with paper towels. The petite redhead barely passes Raven’s shoulder in height, and yet the intense energy that radiates off her is astounding. She doesn’t take her eyes off Raven in the mirror as she fixes her lipstick.

And then she leaves without saying a word.

“Wow,” Clarke mouths, and then aloud adds, “Wait until she sees you guys skate. Think that stick up her ass can go any further?”

Raven presses her hand to her mouth, stifling a shocked laugh. “Clarke Griffin. I knew I liked you for a reason.”

* * *

Her heart is beating a million beats per minute against her chest when they land their final pose of the tango. Applause echoes in the ice rink, a few whistles piercing the air, and she can’t fight the grin that breaks out over face.

Murphy’s beaming above her, their noses touching in their dipped position. A few strands of his hair are matted to his forehead with sweat, despite the chill of the rink. He pulls her back to an upright position and they bow to the crowd. High with adrenaline, she doesn’t think twice about Murphy’s hand on her hip as they skate off the ice.

Luna meets them at the entrance with a bear hug and their skate guards, issuing mostly praises — with a few notes of course — and the three of them head over to the kiss and cry to await the results of their short program.

To advance to sectionals, they need to place in the top four. She picks at her tights while they wait, and Murphy places his hand over hers.

“We got this,” he whispers to her, and she nods. His eyes rove over her, lingering. “You look gorgeous, by the way.”

“Thanks. You, on the other hand, look dumb,” she says and he snorts. “You should’ve worn the yellow.”

“The yellow made me look like Big Bird and Spongebob’s love child.”

“What, you mean you don’t always look like that?”

Luna hushes them, fanning her hand in front of them. “Do you guys ever stop bickering, my God. The scores will be up in a few seconds.

Murphy and Raven exchange a look, his eyebrows jumping up on his forehead as if to say, ‘let’s not piss off Luna today.’ He settles back into the loveseat and drapes his arm behind her back. He appears nonchalant but Raven can see he’s nervous; he tends to clench and unclench his jaw when he’s feeling jittery.

They see their first score flash across the screen. 32.30 for executed elements. Then, right after it, 30.10 for their factored program components. All for a cumulative score of 62.4, sliding them comfortably into fourth place.

Raven lets out a relieved sigh and Murphy strikes his fist in the air near his chest.

“Fuck yeah,” he says. “Fourth place.”

That’s all they needed. If they can keep their standing, they’ll move on to the finals in Texas. Onscreen, the current lineup is displayed. Bellamy and Clarke skated before them, easing comfortably into first place with a score of 65.55. They should have earned a bye to the finals honestly. There was no point in them competing at this level. Everyone that knew anything about pairs skating in the U.S. knew their name for a reason. But, that was the ISU for you.

A pair from Washington state is currently in second place and right above them, just a mere 0.8 points ahead are Finn and Amber. They had gone first, opening the senior pairs short program section of the competition with a routine set to a shortened version of Mozart’s Fantasia in D minor.

Raven watched the routine and it brought forth the oddest of feelings. It was the first time she’d seen Finn skate with someone else in person, and yet, it almost felt like she was watching a version of herself skate with him five years ago, like she was holding a magic mirror to the past. Amber might be smaller, and her hair might be the color of copper, but when she saw the look in her eyes, Raven felt like they could be twins.

She recognized that girl, the one whose bravado attempted to conceal the deepest of insecurities inside, the fear of not living up to anyone’s expectations, that come tomorrow, you might not be picked first after all by your partner if you don’t land this fucking axel. She used to _be_ that girl.

On their way to the locker room, Raven spots her former coach Diana. She’s hissing something at Amber, no doubt reprimanding her for whatever part of the routine she felt she messed up, all the while Finn stands next to her, unmoving and emotionless. His attention is on them, eyes glued to Raven in a mix of disbelief and… betrayal?

A spike of anger courses through her body. He has no right to be angry with her. He continued skating without her, and now she’s doing the same. Only better and she was going to show him exactly that.

Raven leans over to whisper in Murphy’s ear. “We have to beat Finn in the free skate.”

* * *

Even though they’re in a beautifully warm and sunny place, there’s not much time for Raven and Murphy to explore Irvine. Not that Luna would let them out of her sight for very long, and with she and Raven sharing a hotel room, any unplanned escapade is out of the question.

A shame, Raven thinks. She longs to just sit out on a bench somewhere and soak up the sunshine, all the natural Vitamin D she cannot get in Polis during the fall and winter. It’s much too grey and cold. Here, she can actually wear short sleeves.

She pushes aside the hotel curtain to feel the warmth on her skin from the window, and she looks down at the main entrance. A family is loading their luggage onto a gold cart.

In a few hours, she will take the ice with Murphy for the free skate. She’s nervous, something she confided in Luna earlier, who in turn, did her best to reassure her. It was a difficult routine — a long one. Raven fears that if she messes up, they’ll be bumped from the lineup. That would mean the end of their competition season, over before it actually started.

Perhaps beyond that, what would suck most is losing to Finn and Amber. That can’t happen.

She hears a soft knock on the door. Must be Luna back with lunch. Raven heads to the door, and opens it without seeing who was on the other side. Her heart jumps in her chest when she sees Finn.

“Can I come in?” he asks, hands tucked in his pockets.

There’s a part of her that wants to shut the door in his face, but she holds off on that impulse. She opens it wider, allowing him entry. “Whatever it is, make it quick. My coach will be here any second.”

He nods, looking around the hotel room with feigned interest. His room was probably a mirror image. He was simply stalling.

“What do you want Finn?”

He sighs and leans against the wall. “To talk, I guess. I think we have a lot to discuss.”

Raven purses her lips and crosses her arms. Presumptuous of him to come here without an apparent game plan, appearing so casual like he hasn’t been ignoring her for the past year. “Oh? Please air out whatever you need to.”

“Don’t do that,” he says. “I hate when you do that — deflect with sarcasm.”

“You’ve got two minutes to say what you have to, and then you need to leave.”

He rubs at his forehead. “I thought you retired. We shouldn’t be competing against each other, it’s not natural.”

Raven scoffs. This was her dream as much as it was his. “I don’t understand why you’re so butthurt over me getting a new partner. Our partnership has been over for a long time.”

“It’s not just a new partner, you chose _Murphy_ ,” he says. “You told me you couldn’t trust me after your fall, and then you partner with _him?_ It’s honestly laughable.”

She can feel her anger bubbling to the surface as she takes a step toward him. “What’s _laughable_ is you talking to me about trust right now.” She steels her eyes at him. “Need I remind you that you violated that in more ways than one?”

“It was accident, Raven,” he says.

“Right, and your dick slipping in that other woman was an accident too, huh?” At this, he flinches like he’s been slapped. Good, she thinks. He deserved that. “You were angry that I found out, and you dropped me on the ice on purpose.”

The second the words leave her mouth, she feels like an anvil has been lifted off her shoulders. A part of her has always known. That lift that went so wrong should never had gotten to that point. That lift wasn't hard; they've been performing it together since they were junior pairs. With her hand to his shoulder, if he had really dropped her, gravity dictates that she would have fallen horizontally, and if not hurt the side of her body, at worst she would have landed on her back, gotten the wind knocked out of her, bruised her back, something like that. She wouldn’t have toppled over and nosedived. Unless he tossed her over his shoulder.

Finn exhales in disbelief. “Wow. I always knew you were crazy, but this… This is something else. This shit happens all the time in pair skating. You think Murphy’s never going to drop you?”

“Maybe,” she says. “But never on purpose. Never to intentionally hurt me.”

Finn looks at her like she’s a stranger. He shakes his head at her, and it fuels the flames of her anger.

“You keep right on thinking that,” he says before turning on his heel and leaving.

She's fuming, but decides he could have the last word for now. She'll have the last word on the ice.

* * *

Raven stares out onto the ice rink, eyes focused on a single S-shaped curve left behind by the last team. It was well known that American pairs were often lackluster when it came to their side-by-sides, and this S curve was evidence of that.

Amber and Finn’s routine was calculated, but sometimes, things just happen. Amber falling during their simultaneous triple toe loops was karma. Raven would feel bad if she wasn’t such a bitch. Maybe, just maybe, she shouldn’t ostracize the other female pair skaters.

Yes, at the end of the day, they’re all competing against each other, but that didn’t mean they needed to make every interaction a nasty one. Hell, she and Murphy were training partners with Clarke and Bellamy, America’s sweethearts and obvious favorites for the Olympics. Their devotion on and off the ice as a couple only made the public love them more. They even had YouTube edits of them skating.

You don’t see Raven hip-checking Clarke in the locker room like Amber had before their free skate. Raven’s a fervent believer that you get back what you put in the world, and when she saw Amber tumble on the ice, she thought it was the universe carrying on its due justice.

“Third place is ours,” Murphy whispers to her. Might be too early to celebrate, if third place is even worth celebrating (it is, third place would be amazing, she says to the universe), but Raven still nods appreciatively.

She adjusts the straps of her silver skating dress, its gauzy skirt laden with crystals that glint in the harsh overhead lighting. She much prefers this costume over yesterday’s, and Murphy does too. His silver shirt fades into a skin-colored mesh at the wrists, and other than some silver thread stitching along the neckline, it is devoid of any sparkles for him.

He holds out his hand and she takes it, the announcer reading off their names as they skate to the middle of the rink.

She gets into her opening position, body leaning away from Murphy, hands braced on his chest.

The soft piano notes begin, and she contorts her body to push away from Murphy. Hand in hand, they dance on the ice, a prelude of grazing hands and artful loops carving the path to their throw double twist. Applause rings as they ace the landing, Murphy stopping her revolutions in midair before gently bringing her back down to the ice.

The song is easy to skate to, the strings, the lyrics — all conducive to showcasing their best form on the ice. If the tango was about showcasing their chemistry, this free skate was about showing their synchronicity. With many side-by-side elements, from the sit spins to the joint camel spin, this routine relied on Murphy and Raven knowing exactly where the other was on the ice.

They move on to their lasso lift when the beat picks up, the lyrics about burning down ringing through the rink. Raven feels like she is flying.

Just as the climax of the piece is wrapping up, they execute their death spiral. Her head is a little too close to the ice for comfort, but she doesn’t have much time to dwell on that. Like always, the four minutes pass by in a blur of triple lutzes, salchows and toe loops. Whatever time she’s not spending with her blades on the ice, she’s suspended above Murphy’s head.

Her breath is ragged by the time the routine comes to a close, with Murphy standing with his back against hers, hands clasped.

Murphy spins her around, and that’s when she registers the cheering in the audience. Bellamy and Clarke stand at the edge of the rink giving them a thumbs up. Murphy embraces her tightly, and in an uncharacteristic gesture, kisses the top of her head.

“We fucking did it Reyes,” he says, his excitement barely contained. “Finals here we come.”

When they see their scores land them comfortably in not third, but _second_ place, just a couple points below Bellamy and Clarke, Raven buries her face in Murphy’s jacket. They called it the kiss and cry for a reason.

* * *

_November 2019_

Finals pass by in a blur.

Raven can’t believe the high she and Murphy are flying. It’s surreal to think that after such a short period of time together, they could be a couple points short of the scores Bellamy and Clarke, a seasoned pair, were getting. She had always hoped there was a chance she and Murphy could make it to the 2022 Winter Olympics, but her realistic brain always kept her grounded to the fact that they may not make it.

This past month has changed everything. She knew now that there was not only a chance, but a real opportunity. And if the U.S. was given two entries in pair skating…

Come January, they’ll officially enter the spotlight again in Nationals. Complete with the TV exposure and the subsequent interviews that will follow, it will be a testament to not only how she and Murphy compete in the bigger arena, but how the public receives them.

Luna is pleased with their performances so far, but that doesn’t mean her eyes are glossing over details. An understatement, seeing as she tries (and fails) to hide how many times she’s rewatched their short and free program recordings. Raven has caught her more than once studying them intently prior to their ice time.

This morning is one of those times.

“Don’t you get tired of seeing Murphy wobble on that triple salchow?” Raven says, walking up to her coach. She lays down her duffle bag beside her on the bleacher.

Luna arches an eyebrow. “You wobbled too,” she says. She leans forward to balance her elbows on her knees, eyes still fixated on the screen. Raven sees is a flash of yellow as Murphy throws her into the air and she executes the required throw triple loop. Damn. Her foot did wobble.

“Your bad habits have rubbed off on each other,” Luna sighs. “Murphy’s always had issues sticking that landing.”

“We didn’t fall,” Raven says.

Luna switches to another recording, this one of one of their recent practices of the same routine. She speeds ahead to the side-by-side triple toes, and this time, she sees Murphy — not fall — but his hand graces the ice for balance as he lands. “He’s watching you,” Luna says. “Not generally a bad thing, but he needs to focus on his own jumps now.”

Raven feels a fluttering in her belly at the thought of Murphy keeping an eye on her during their routine. She’s not sure why, but him watching her, making sure she was okay, that made her skin warm. She clears her throat. “No worries, I’ll tell him to keep his eyes to himself, coach.”

A nostalgic smile spreads through Luna’s face. She hums, her eyes taking on a faraway look. “My husband used to do the same thing,” she says.

Surprised at the change in conversation, Raven sits beside her on the bleacher. “I didn’t know Derrick used to be your partner.” Luna’s husband was a big man, and quiet too. He never said much when Raven was around, other than when attempting to wrangle their rambunctious twin sons.

“He retired not long after we made it to the Olympics in 2002. We didn’t place and he blamed himself,” Luna says with a shrug. “In the long run, he was probably right. His heart hadn’t been in it for a while. He had a knee injury from a bad fall during practice for Worlds. But he stayed for me, and then… he left for me.”

“To give you another chance,” Raven says.

Her coach nods. “Roan might not have been the person I saw myself winning the Olympics with, but that partnership was the best thing that could’ve happened to me. 2006 was our year.” She nudges Raven’s knee. “Just like 2022 will be _yours_.”

Raven smiles, but a nagging thought persists at the back of her mind. “Do you wish…” She swallows and forces the words out. “Do you wish it was Emori instead of me? You’ve been coaching her since she was, what, 10? It must’ve sucked to see her walk away from everything.”

“I’ve known Emori for a long time, yes,” Luna agrees. “But it’s because I’ve known her for so long that I can tell you, with full confidence, that 2022 is going to be Murphy’s year — but only if he’s skating with _you_.”

Raven feels moisture gather in her eyes. She blinks rapidly and gives her coach a grateful nod.

“Now,” Luna says, “go get your skates on and find your partner. He’s probably scarfing down a honey bun in the hallway and lord knows that does nothing for his jumps.” She makes a shooing motion with her hands, and Raven does as she asks, trying to hide her amusement.

Luna was right. Murphy was probably eating right before their practice. The glutton, she thinks affectionately.

* * *

Raven sighs as she tilts her head back against the rim of the hot tub. She’d always wanted one of these at her house, but it seemed like too big of a splurge to justify since she lived alone. How many times would she actually use it?

But sitting in the hot water, surrounded by steam since the temperatures hovered in the low 20s and with snow covering the rest of the patio, Raven seriously considers the investment. Though she supposes it’s not a time-sensitive purchase now. Using Shaw’s would do just fine.

He splashes her lightly, droplets landing on her clavicle.

“You look comfortable,” he says. “Sore?”

She groans. “Is that even a question at this point?” She rolls her neck around. The pieces of hair framing her face are cold against her skin, probably icing over.

Shaw wades over to her. His hands are soft against her skin as he kneads at the knots. “Better?”

He’s kind of shit at massages, much too light pressure, but she doesn’t want to make him feel bad. “Much,” she lies, and spins around to give him a kiss instead.

She was hoping to distract his wandering hands with her lips, but Shaw hasn’t gotten better at reading her in the months they’ve been together. His hand dips below the water to cup her breast, and Raven pulls away. She settles against a jet across Shaw and gives him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I’m kind of tired,” she says.

He purses his lips in disappointment, hand flicking the water in a passive-aggressive manner. “I don’t mean to be an asshole, but you’ve been ‘kind of tired’ for a while.”

“Are you seriously complaining that we haven’t had sex in a few days?” Raven asks with a scoff.

“Weeks, Raven. Three weeks, to be exact.”

“Thanks for the count, boss,” she says. She doesn’t mean for it to come across so patronizing, and tries to make amends by explaining, even though she knows well that she shouldn’t have to explain anything. “You know these past few weeks have been really hectic with practices and competitions. But Luna really thinks we have a good shot at the Olympics.”

“The Olympics that are not for another three years.”

And therein lied the biggest problem in their relationship. Shaw, simply put, didn’t get it.

“Right, because you totally become an Olympian overnight,” Raven says flippantly. “Everything that we do now counts.”

“So you say.”

She stares at him, annoyed at his tone. “What?” she asks, and he just shakes his head in response. “If you have something to say you should say it.”

Instead of answering her, he switches off the bubbles and begins to cross over the edge of the hot tub.

Raven watches him grab his towel and turn his back to her. “Where are you going?”

“Somewhere other than here. I’m tired of having the same fight.”

“We wouldn’t be having the same fight if you got it through your head that I’m trying to achieve something for myself. Why can’t you understand that?”

He looks back over his shoulder at her, and the lack of expression in his face angers her. And what comes out of his mouth next makes it worse.

“I know you thrive on competition, but I’m tired of having to compete for your attention.”

Raven bites her tongue, no matter how badly she wants to give him a piece of her mind. The only thing he was competing for was her patience, and he had been on thin ice for weeks. Not only had he been unsupportive after she came back from Sectionals, but he also came up with a last minute excuse to not accompany her for the finals in Houston. If he didn’t want to support her, that was fine, but at least have the courage to say that to her face, rather than belittle all her hard work and make it seem like it was insignificant.

She gathers her boots and enters the house, only to wad up the rest of her clothes before stalking back outside to her truck and driving home in her bikini. Her teeth chatter as she starts up the engine, but she’d be damned if she had to spend one more minute in his company. She’s sure he expected her to come to him, but fuck that. He was in the wrong.

She’s so angry, her driving is a little on the unsafe side, especially for the current icy conditions. She forces herself to slow down, and take deep long breaths. Her phone rings from its position beside her on the seat, and she groans when she sees Shaw’s name illuminated on her screen.

Ignoring the call as she approaches the intersection, she makes a split second decision that instead of taking her home, would take her right to someone who would be more than happy to hear her rip Shaw to shreds. It’s healthy, she tells herself. Everyone needs a sounding board once in a while.

And Murphy is a good one. Hell, he hates Shaw so much, he might even hype her up. She’ll probably feel bad about their argument in an hour or so, but right now she needed to vent.

To his credit, Murphy takes her unannounced visit with stride. He raises her eyebrow at her outfit, and sidesteps to let her in.

“Do I even want to know?” he asks. He waves a hand in the air after she stomps inside his apartment, making a beeline for his bathroom to put on actual clothes. She hears him sighs. “Something tells me I will anyway. You do know this is Idaho and not Bora Bora, right?”

“Well aware,” she answers through chattering teeth before disappearing into his bathroom.

All things considered, she does feel a bit better once she is redressed, even if she had to do it in Murphy’s bathroom which… It wasn’t disgusting or dirty by any means, but the man used it as a makeshift drying rack for all the clothes he couldn’t put in the dryer, and she was always dodging his thermal layers and workout pants he swore would shrink if he didn’t line them out to dry. How he showered in here during the days he did laundry was a mystery to her.

She tugs the sleeves of her eggplant-colored sweatshirt further down over her hands, her fingers still frozen. Murphy’s waiting for her in the living room, sat in that stupid plastic lawn chair she’s urged him over and over to replace with an actual accent chair.

She sits down on his couch with a huff, tucking her legs underneath her.

“So…” Murphy says. “What did he do this time?”

It momentarily strikes her as funny that he knows her mood and sudden appearance at his doorstep has to do with her boyfriend. But then she remembers all the times a version of today’s events have unfolded — Shaw walking out of Grizzly’s and leaving her stranded when she returned from Sectionals because he got annoyed at all the competition talk between her, Murphy, Bellamy and Clarke; Shaw flaking on her the night before they were supposed to fly to Houston for Finals, claiming to have gotten yet another last minute flying gig he couldn’t turn down; Shaw ignoring her calls after she texted him they made it to fucking Nationals when he was the first person she wanted to talk to.

She’s not stupid. There is a pattern here. And if it’s obvious to her, she wonders what it’s like for Murphy to see that.

“I think I need to break up with him,” Raven says, more to herself than Murphy.

He lets out what sounds like a sigh of relief. “Jesus fuck, _finally_. Yes, dump him. He’s the worst. One-hundred percent, you should kick him to the curb.” He’s splayed out on his lawn chair, looking like she just told him she won the lottery.

“Wow, tell me how you really feel,” she says.

“He treats you like shit,” Murphy deadpans.

Raven feels like this is too strong of a statement. “Okay, it’s not that serious.”

Murphy sits up abruptly. “Yes, it is. Look, I get you think the dude is hot and whatnot, and yeah he owns a plane and drives a helicopter for a living — but he doesn’t take you seriously. The novelty of dating a competitive figure skater has worn out.”

Raven fails to hide a wince, looking down onto a spot on the floor where Murphy spilled something that stained the beige carpet. He softens his tone, but not the blow of his words. “You know you’d be better off without him.”

She brings her knees to her chest, and if Murphy has done one thing, is extinguish the flames of her anger. Now, she just felt sad. “I don’t want to be alone,” she says.

Murphy tilts his head at this, considering her for a beat before coming to join her on the couch. Instinctively, she feels herself fall onto him, her head leaning on his shoulder while he rubs her arm.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

* * *

_New Years Eve 2019_

Raven doesn’t break up with Shaw.

She tells herself it’s because it would be shitty for her to break up with someone during the holidays, but in reality, the truth was a lot less noble. This would be the first holiday season in a few years she would actually have someone to spend it with, and while she loved spending Thanksgiving with Sinclair and his family, and then Christmas with Luna and her family, she always felt like an intruder. Like, she didn’t quite fit in.

With Shaw, at least they felt like a unit walking in together to these events. Murphy may have given her a bit of side-eye during Luna’s Christmas Eve party, but he’d already made his feelings known and it wasn’t like him to harp on emotions. Not when there was Derrick’s own batch of craft beers around. Luna was trying to encourage him to open his own brewery in town, and Raven really hoped he went for it. Polis needed another watering hole beside Grizzly’s and the tourists bars by the resort.

Tonight, she’s headed out. Headed to some party with Shaw, and while she would much rather stay home and watch the ball drop from the comfort and warmth of her own home, Shaw is really excited about this party. If she plans to dump him in a couple of weeks, she guesses the least she could do is accompany him to this thing, especially since he’s been a good sport the past few weeks with her. Even apologized over the hot tub incident.

She tugs her gold mini dress lower over her legs. Even with the long sleeves and black tights underneath, she’s bound to be cold all night once she took off her snow coat. She hopes this party had a good drink selection.

Shaw texts her that he’s waiting outside, and she smooths her hair with her hands. Her hair tie is securely wrapped around her wrist should she get tired of wearing it down.

Shaw wolf-whistles when she comes outside and she lets herself bask in his praise for a minute. She does look good tonight.

He heads south on the main road, away from the mountain. He looks handsome in his black turtleneck, eyes sparkling with ill-contained excitement. Parties were his element. Shaw loved to charm, and be charmed in turn. He had been looking forward to New Years for a while. It was his favorite holiday.

He looks over to her, eyes catching the glint in her ears. “You’re wearing the earrings I got you,” he said.

She reaches up and touches the little gold pendant earrings, little diamonds encrusted in a loop. It was a lavish gift compared to what she got him for Christmas — a gift certificate for two to go zip-lining. She thought that, once she broke up with him, it was a gift he could at least use with someone else.

The earrings made her feel guilty. So, she was going to wear them as much as possible in his presence until they broke up.

He turns onto an unpaved road, putting his four-wheel drive out of an abundance of caution as the conditions get icier. There’s something familiar about this, though she can’t put her finger on why. She just had the oddest sense of déjà vu.

“Whose house are we going to, do you know?” she asks.

He shrugs. “No idea. My buddy Cooper passed on the invite.”

“Hmm.”

It all clicks into place when she sees the house come into a view. The wrap-around screen porch. The rows of cars already parked outside the mansion.

Cage Wallace’s place.

* * *

For such a small ski resort town, Cage Wallace’s house seems to always be full of strangers. She can’t find a familiar face among the crowd, already drunk and decked out in gaudy New Year’s Eve crowns and plastic glasses. Shaw places their coats in a designated bedroom upstairs, leaving her alone to stand at the threshold. With the influx of people coming in and going out to the porch, she wanders into the kitchen, hoping to find a corner where she could tuck herself into.

She pulls out her phone from her purse and texts Murphy.

_He took me to Cage Wallace’s fucking party._

Her phone buzzes less than 30 seconds later with his reply. _Should’ve come with us to Grizzly’s. Bellamy is giving Clarke a lap dance._

She hides a smile with her hand and types back. _It’s not even 10 yet._

_Here’s hoping they get drunk enough for a three-way kiss at midnight._

Raven is about to type back a response calling him a perv, but she feels a hand on her elbow. She looks up to see Shaw, who is placing a drink in her hand. “Thanks,” she says and takes a sip. Expecting beer, she’s momentarily shocked when the taste of pure whiskey burns her throat. She swallows with a wince. “That packs a punch.”

“It’s good, right?” He starts steering her toward the living room, where the music grows louder in volume.

She sniffs at it. Seems fine, she supposes. She’s not a fan of hard liquor. “Where’d you get it?”

“Oh some guy was handing them out.”

Raven stops in her tracks. “Some random guy gave you a drink and then you gave it to _me?”_

“It’s a party, babe,” Shaw says in that tone that she recognizes now is both a warning and an attempt at sounding casual.

“This could have anything in it,” Raven hisses at him. “Are you dumb?” she dumps the contents of her cup in the sink.

Shaw watches her, and mouths “Wow.” Aloud he says, “You know what, I'm not in the mood today. Come find me when you’re not being a bitch.” And then he shakes his head and leaves her standing there. She sees a group of girls, who have obviously been watching their entire exchange, snicker in the corner and Raven suddenly wishes she had offered to drive. She would leave his ass stranded here.

She feels someone tap her on the shoulder, and turns, surprise melding into confusion. Standing before her is a man, handsome in a way that seems foreboding, a small scar adorning his upper lip, twisted in a small lopsided grin. He holds out a water bottle for her, and she takes it.

“Can’t imagine he’d talk to you like that if your partner were here,” the man says, and Raven quirks her head. “I heard he’s very protective of you.”

“You know who I am?”

He takes a sip of his drink, something amber in a red solo cup. “I know who all my skaters are. My father’s much more involved in the skiers and snowboarders. Catering to the tourists, of course,” he adds with a wink.

Realization dawns on her quickly then. Cage Wallace had quite the reputation among locals, mostly as being somewhat of an odd man. Obsessed with money, and looking forward for his dad to croak so that he could take over the running of the resort. She’d never seen him in person, save for newspaper articles, though now it’s highly likely he’d been closer to her than she realized over the years. 

Cage’s eyes rove over her intensely, in a way that makes Raven hyper aware of his every movement. He reaches a hand over and tucks her hair behind her ear. “You are much lovelier with your hair down,” he says quietly.

Raven captures his wrist and pushes it away from her. “Lay a hand on me again, and you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

His eyes twinkle with mirth, but he takes a step back, putting his drink on the counter so he can rub his wrist. “I think your partner’s rubbing off a bit on you, though I have heard you’ve always been feisty.”

She narrows her eyes, but bites her tongue before she can say anything she’ll regret. This was the heir to the mountain she was speaking to. It takes all her willpower, but she forces herself to walk away from him, momentarily giving him the satisfaction of having the last word.

In the living room, she looks for her boyfriend—or any familiar face. Finding none, Raven knows she only wants to do one thing.

Get the hell out of this goddamn house.

* * *

Her Uber driver drops her off at the front of the building, and she gives him a nice tip for his efforts. Grizzly’s was packed, and not only that, he had gotten her out of the hellhole she now associates with Cage Wallace’s place.

Her friends are in their usual booth, and the first to spot her out of the crowd is Bellamy. She can tell by the state of his hair that he’s absolutely sloshed, even though it’s an hour till midnight. He beams at her, raising up what looks like an old fashioned.

“Well look who decided to join in,” he yells over the music. Murphy twists from his position at the edge of the booth, eyes rounding out in surprise.

“Reyes,” he says, and scoots over to make room. He glances behind her. “I thought you were hanging with the pilot tonight.”

“Change of plans.”

Clarke gestures to her dress in appreciation. “Wow,” she says.

Raven smiles at her as she sits down. “Thanks. It’s very glitzy.”

The blonde signals to her mini sparkly top hat, adorning the crown of her head, hair tied back into a neat ponytail. “That’s New Year’s for you.”

“And a happy one it is,” Bellamy says, nuzzling his face into her neck. Raven takes that as a cue to look away and anchors herself so that her body is turned toward Murphy.

“Whatcha drinking?” she asks, and he slides his glass over to her. She takes a sip of Murphy’s drink, immediately recognizing the local IPA. She gestures to the full bar. “How’d you get the night off, anyway? It’s busy tonight.”

“Considering I worked both Thanksgiving and Christmas this year, boss man figured he’d give me a break. Though between you and me, I would rather be working.” He gestures to the bar with his thumb. “You know how much money the bartenders are gonna make tonight on tips?” He whistles. “Boss man screwed me over.”

“No one _really_ wants to work on a holiday,” Raven says, taking another sip from his beer.

“Do you know,” Murphy says, sitting upright, “that tonight will be the first New Year’s Eve since I was 14 that I’m single?”

Raven leans in conspiratorially. “You know, I think I’m single tonight too.”

His eyebrows jump. “You did it? You finally broke up with the pilot?”

She purses her lips. Murphy’s eyes drop down to them, and she feels her skin grown hot. She moves her hair to one side, exposing her neck to the air. “Not exactly. But he called me a bitch,” she tells Murphy. “And then he ditched me at a party. So fuck him.”

He shakes his head, his jaw tense as he takes a sip of beer. “I’d like to watch him call you a bitch in front me.” She notices for the first time the glassy sheen in his eyes. This was not his first beer. “In fact, I dare him to.”

“I haven’t even told you the best part,” Raven says, taking his glass from his hands for another swig.

“You want your own?” he says with a small laugh.

She shakes her head. “I ran into Cage Wallace at the party.” Murphy’s eyes bug out of his head. “And he’s a fucking creep.”

Raven recounts her brief run-in with the man, and Murphy grows increasingly agitated.

“It’s official,” Murphy says. “I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again. In fact, you’re not allowed to go to parties without me.”

Raven laughs. “Oh I’m sorry, what are you, my father?”

He considers this, lips pursed. She tries to ignore the way the dim lighting brings out the grey in his eyes. “I mean, you can call me daddy, if you want.”

She pushes his head away from hers with the palm of her hand, wondering how many beers he’s had so far. “You’re disgusting.” From the corner of her eye, she can see Bellamy and Clarke heatedly making out. Perhaps it’s all the sexual energy in this small space making her feel flushed.

Murphy snickers, rubbing his chin with his hand. “And you’re blushing, Reyes. Does someone have a daddy kink?”

“Stop,” she says, placing a hand on his arm. “I do not have a,” she lowers her voice, “ _daddy kink_.”

“The lady doth protest too much.” His eyes glint with mirth. “It’s okay, I’m not going to kink-shame you.”

“You’re drunk.” She starts to slide off the booth. “And I am way too sober at the moment. I’m getting a beer.”

He gestures to his glass, and Raven rolls her eyes. But a few minutes, she comes back with a second pint for him. Her phone buzzes in her hand. She knows it’s Shaw, and promptly shuts it off. Instead of talking to him, she focuses on the pint of good beer in front of her, and the friends that surrounded her.

Some time later, Clarke insist they all go dance, and though Murphy has to be coaxed, he begrudgingly follows them to the dance floor. They dance in a tight circle for a minute or two, but when the music changes to something heavy with bass, the hired DJ informing them it was 15 minutes to midnight and that it was time to heat up the dance floor, Bellamy and Clarke blended into the crowd of gyrating bodies.

“Do you want to go sit down?” Raven yells into Murphy’s ear, the music much louder now than it was earlier in the night.

“I’m already up,” he yells back. “Besides, you wanted to dance, Reyes. So let’s dance.”

He spins her, and as the other couples grind into each other, she and Murphy do their own thing. It’s a cross of goofy moves and awful dancing, (if she can ever scrub the memory of Murphy doing the sprinkler while dropping it low… no, she wouldn’t. In fact, she wishes she had a recording to lord over him later) but it’s their own.

That was the thing with hanging out with Murphy. He never failed to make her laugh, to forget about every awful thing that happened, or could happen, and focus on what she is experiencing right this moment, right this second. When the countdown to midnight starts, there’s no one else in the world she would rather be next to.

“3…2…1… Happy New Year!”

A cacophony of cheering, whistles and a few noisemakers fill Grizzly’s, and the music is pumped back up as couples begin to kiss. Raven beams at Murphy, and opens her arms wide. With a roll of his eyes, he embraces her, his arms wrapping around her lower back and lifting her up in the air.

“Happy New Year,” she says.

He puts her back down on the floor, but his arms keep her close. With a kiss to the top of her head, he returns the sentiment. “Happy New Year, Reyes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a lot happened in the tail end of 2019. Lol.
> 
> Apologize in advance for my treatment of Shaw! Also if you're curious, the fall Shaw references happened in 2007 during Four Continents. Jessica Dubé was hit in the face by her partner's skate and had to get 83 stitches to fix a cut on her cheek and nose. I have watched a lot of pair skating (as research I tell myself lol) for this story, and with that comes rabbit holes of watching bad pair skating falls.
> 
> Also, this is the song Murphy and Raven skate to in their free program: https://youtu.be/kwUeij_HRdA


	5. 2020: Part I

_New Years Day 2020_

Raven wakes up and she feels like death.

She winces against the bright light filtering into the room, her mouth as dry as the desert. She groans, eyes screwed shut while she tries to get her bearings. Right away, she knows she’s not in her own bed, or in her own house for that matter.

When the world comes into focus, her eyes land on a plastic lawn chair. In a living room?

She drops her head back down onto the couch, letting out a moan of exhaustion and relief. She’s at Murphy’s.

The events that happened after midnight are a blur. She vaguely recalls doing a round of tequila shots with Bellamy, Clarke and Murphy, and then hitting the dance floor again. More shots later on? Lots of laughing — that she definitely remembers. For a while, she and Murphy couldn’t look at each other without bursting into fits of giggles. She remembers the glassy look in his eyes, full of glee spurred on by the copious amounts of alcohol they had ingested. 

She gets up from the couch with the intention of making her way to the bathroom — God knows what she looks like right now — but she only takes two steps before she trips over something, or rather someone, and is sent tumbling to the carpet with a huff.

“ _Murphy_ ,” she says, exasperated. “What are you doing on the floor? You have a bed.”

He rolls onto his back, hair askew and pointing in all directions. His button down is half-undone and wrinkly. He screws his face in displeasure, hand outstretched toward her. “Too loud. Too early.”

She heaves herself up, using the edge of the couch for balance. This time, she steps over him on her way to the bathroom, where as soon as she flips on the light, she wishes she hadn’t. To say that she looked a fright would be an understatement. Her hair? A rats nest. Her makeup? Smeared to shit.

She does her best to make herself presentable, taking off the remnants of her lipstick and eye makeup with toilet paper, and using Murphy’s brush to tame her lion’s mane into an acceptable ponytail. What she really needs is a shower, and coffee. Lots of coffee.

Murphy still hasn’t moved by the time she exits the bathroom. She nudges him with her foot. “You’re going to need to get up sometime.”

“I think I died last night.”

“C’mon,” she says, holding her hands down to him. “Get up.”

He groans pitifully, but outstretches his hands to grip hers. She helps to hoist him to a sitting position, and then to his feet. “I’m never drinking again. This is worse than all of my sad hangovers combined.”

“It was the tequila,” Raven says. "I blame Bellamy and Clarke." Half of her wonders if she had messed up in enabling Murphy to drink as much as he did, what with his history, but something felt different this time around. He had been happy, and she had indulged in just as much as he had. She was probably overthinking things, but as she watches him start a pot of coffee, a cowlick standing hopelessly at the back of his hair, she feels how much she cares for him. It was only natural for her to worry. He had been doing so good in the past few months. 

Inhaling the scent of coffee beans brewing perks Raven up a little. Not fully, but once he places a mug in front of her, already prepared with cream and sugar the way she likes it, she does start to feel a bit more human. She spots her purse hanging from the back of one of the dining chairs and she reaches for it. Her phone and wallet are both inside, and she sighs in relief.

She turns her phone on, and the notifications immediately start flooding in. A couple from Harper, wishing her a Happy New Year’s, and exactly 47 from Shaw.

Fuck. She had forgotten all about Shaw. 

He had called her 23 times and texted her 24 messages, all regarding her whereabouts last night.

_Hey, where are you?_

_Raven I’ve looked everywhere for you. Where did you go?_

_CALL ME._

_WHY ARE YOU NOT ANSWERING YOUR PHONE_

_I’m sorry about earlier, babe. Are you okay? Just tell me you’re okay._

_If you don't answer in the morning, I'm calling the cops._

Raven feels… pretty terrible. She should’ve texted him that she was leaving. He was still technically her boyfriend, and she took off without telling him where she was going. For all he knew, she could be lying in a ditch somewhere, unconscious or worse. She hates to think that he spent the whole night worrying about her, when in reality she had been drunk off her ass with her friends. Drunk off her ass with _Murphy,_ whom Shaw hates with every ounce of his being.

Ignoring him last night had felt good, but only because she was so angry at him. Now that the anger had evaporated, she felt guilty.

“I’m a bitch,” she says to Murphy as she texts Shaw. _I’m alive. We need to talk._ “He must’ve been worried sick.”

“You’re not a bitch,” he replies. “He was the one that ditched you first.”

“Yeah, but—”

Murphy interrupts her, his mug — the one she gave him for Christmas — making a thudding sound as he lands it firmly on the table. “Stop Raven,” he says. “You made a decision last night to have fun. That’s not a crime.”

“I could’ve texted him.”

“Maybe. But you didn’t, and that’s that. You're not a bitch.”

She chews on her cheek, unsure of how to proceed. No matter what Murphy says, she feels like she’s made a mistake. A selfish mistake.

One she didn’t regret. Did that make her a terrible person?

Her phone vibrates in her hand. She excuses herself, grabs her coat, and steps outside to take his call.

* * *

They agree to meet at a coffee shop in town later that afternoon.

By then, Raven is feeling a lot less hungover, and better prepared. She’s rehearsed what she’s going to say a million times, deciding that she would apologize for her actions, without apologizing for standing up for herself, for wanting to be treated _better —_ for wanting to be with someone who understands who she is. 

She can see Shaw sitting with his back to her from the parking lot. He got here early, and so did she. She watched as he ordered a macchiato and a some sort of pastry, proceeding to pick at it as the clock ticked. She knows she’s prolonging this conversation unnecessarily, but her insides churn at the thought of sitting across from him, of having to look him in the eye and tell him, the first man who'd taken a true interest in her since Finn, that what they had is not what she wants.

When the clock hits 3 o’clock, she forces herself out of the truck, boots crunching in the snow as she avoids a large patch of ice in the parking lot. Before entering the coffee shop, she takes a deep breath. You can do this, she tells herself.

She offers him a half-smile as she takes a seat across from him, and he returns it. There’s a sadness in his eyes that hurts her. Despite everything, they did have a good time. Once.

“I’m really sorry,” she offers.

He shakes his head, and her heart drops, but she realizes his gesture is one of disappointment. Toward himself. “I’m the one that should be sorry,” he says. “I…” he exhales sharply, eyes meeting her earnestly. “I wouldn’t have wanted to spend time with me last night either.”

They’re rehashing what they already said on the phone, but maybe they needed to say it face to face for it to have meaning. “Still, you didn’t deserve that,” she says.

Silence stretches between them for a beat, only broken when Shaw laughs softly, no humor behind the sound. “We’re a mess, huh?”

The only thing Raven can do is nod. Suddenly, everything she rehearsed feels out of place to say. He seems to know anyway.

He motions to the counter. “Do you want anything?”

“I’m not planning on staying long,” she whispers.

“Of course.” It’s not a sarcastic reply, more resigned. He looks out the window, at the large expanse of white snow that hugs half of the floor-to-ceiling window. Raven waits, instinct telling her he needed a moment. “Do you remember earlier this summer? When I took you mountain biking?”

A short laugh escapes her. “I was a nightmare,” she recalls. “I thought I was going to fall off the side of the mountain.”

He chuckles at the memory. “I kept telling you where the brake was, and all you did was scream in terror.”

“I was laughing too.”

That moment seems so long ago. Raven isn’t sure she’s the same woman that got on that bike anymore, and it’s not necessarily a bad thing. Growth is natural. It just happens that this time, it’s pulled them away from each other. Or, maybe they never were on the same page. Raven always thought they were too alike to ever work. She never told him this, but in the back of her mind, the thought was there. Both stubborn, unrelenting and passionate about their dreams. Too serious at times. They relied too much on physicality, and when that fizzled, they had nothing to talk about.

When his eyes meet hers again, they’re glassy with unshed tears.

“I’ve lost you, haven’t I?”

Again, Raven nods. “I don’t think you ever really had me.”

That draws out a subtle wince from him. “Fair enough. At least we tried, right?” He runs his forefinger over his middle finger, hand hovering just above the table.

“We did.” The knot in her throat tightens, and she blinks her own tears away. No matter what, she didn’t want him to hurt, and he was hurting. He was trying to hold it in, but she could see it. He has always been an open book, for better or worse.

“Well, I always did think not having you would be better than having to share you,” he says.

Her brows furrow as she tries to grasp his meaning. Immediately, her mind goes to figure skating. “Shaw, this has always been who I am. Skating is a part of me.”

“I didn’t mean sharing you with your dream,” he says. “I meant, sharing you with _him_.”

Realization dawns on her, and she feels an odd feeling wash over her. It makes her nervous, on edge. Murphy was her skating partner. Her best friend. That was it.

“That’s not—”

Shaw halts her with his hand. “I’ve competed enough times against him to recognize that, when it comes down to it, you’re always going to choose him. That’s what you did last night, and I’m tired of being the third wheel.”

Funny enough, she had told herself from the very beginning that Murphy came first. But at the time, there had been a lot going on. Murphy was still healing from his breakup with Emori. He needed her more than Shaw did. Somewhere along the way, that seems to have changed, and Raven didn’t notice.

With that, he gets up, leaving behind his half-eaten scone. Cinnamon, she notices. The apology dies on Raven’s lips. This time, when she takes a deep breath, it's of relief.

* * *

Raven makes the two-hour drive to Boise the first chance she gets. That ends up being a Friday after work, and she pulls up to Harper’s apartment just after 8 p.m.

Being the kind of friend she is, Harper has dinner ready by the time she arrives. She ushers her in excitedly, remarking on how long her hair looks and how she hopes she’s hungry and how much she’s missed her.

The past few months have been hectic for the both of them, with Harper starting work at the hospital and Raven being busy with competitions, and this is the first time since autumn she’s seen her friend in person.

Monty is hanging in the apartment too, not a surprise since he moved in with Harper before Christmas. He’s always nice to have around. A very calming presence, Raven thinks. His kind eyes make her feel welcome, and he disappears to the bedroom to give them some privacy.

Harper serves her a big plate of lasagna, piping hot and straight from the oven. She plates a slice for Monty too, garlic bread on the side and brings it to him in the bedroom. “Men,” she says when she returns. She cuts a piece for herself and sits across Raven in the small dining table. “They never stop being boys. Give them a video game and some food and you won’t see them for a few hours.”

“This is really good,” Raven says after swallowing a bite.

“Thank you. My dad’s recipe.” She uncorks a bottle of merlot and pours some into their glasses. “Can’t have pasta without wine.”

“A sin,” Raven agrees. “Just like all these carbs. Luna would definitely have something to say about this.”

Harper raises her eyebrows with a shrug. “I definitely don’t miss a coach monitoring my diet.”

“Luna does what she can, but at the end of the day, Murphy’s like a garbage disposal. I wouldn’t be surprised if he ate literal trash.” Her friend laughs and Raven joins in. “I’m serious — I’ve never seen anyone inhale food like that man.”

“Oh he’s a _man_ now?” Harper teases.

“Stop,” Raven says, pointing her fork at her. “That’s my partner.”

“I’m just saying. He looks good in those uniforms. Very tight across his chest.”

Raven takes a big gulp of her wine. The last thing she wanted to think about was Murphy’s chest, which she's felt more times than her own probably. Harper’s apartment suddenly felt too warm.

Perhaps taking pity on her, Harper doesn’t push the teasing further. But unfortunately, she does ask her about Shaw, and Raven fills her in on what happened on New Year’s eve and then their breakup at the coffee shop.

That’s part of the reason why Raven was here. She needed her girlfriend. Murphy was great and all, but sometimes you needed to air these things out with another woman. Someone who would know exactly what Raven felt, and would be able to empathize with her confusing mix of relief and sadness. How could one miss someone, and yet at the same time, want nothing to do with them?

She asks Harper this, hoping she had an answer for her, but unfortunately, Harper just sighs.

“You know I’m a big believer that everything happens for a reason,” she says. “You may not know why the universe brought Shaw to you, or why it went so wrong, but it’s obviously preparing you for something much bigger in the future.”

Raven sets her empty wine glass on the table. “I don’t think it’s as obvious as you think it is.”

“Maybe not now,” Harper agrees, “but one day you’ll know why.” Her eyes flit to the closed bedroom door, a softness appearing in her irises.

“You’re so smitten,” Raven says. "It's disgusting and I love it." 

Harper doesn’t deny it, and doesn’t bother to hide the affection in her face. She’s unapologetically in love. “Like they say, when you know, you know.”

Raven feels a pang of jealousy course through her. She wants that. But… if only one of them ever got to experience that kind of love, Raven is glad it’s Harper. She deserves all of that, and more.

* * *

The day that they land in Greensboro, North Carolina, for Nationals, Raven loses her appetite.

Murphy watches her as she paces in front of baggage claim. She walks back and forth, arms crossed as if she could quell the way her heart hammers in her chest by admitting pressure. In less than 36 hours, they will take the ice for their short program, and to say Raven is nervous is an understatement.

She’s competed at Nationals before. And every time, it’s gone wrong. She and Finn never made it any higher than fifth place, and the Nationals stage has bore witness to some of her nastiest spills on the ice. During her second senior pair competition, Raven bruised her hip after she crashed into the ice due to a bad axel landing. She had spun out on the slippery ice, her back hitting the rink wall. That had put her out of commission for two weeks afterward.

That happened a few months before her mother died. Unfortunately, it was the last competition she watched. Raven always resented that. If only her mom would have stuck around longer to see her really shine. On days like today, she wishes she was still here with her.

She feels a pair of hands land on her shoulders, grounding her back to the present. “Hey, come take a seat,” Murphy tells her. “The bags aren’t coming anytime soon.”

“We should’ve carried on,” she says.

Luna walks over to them, overhearing Raven. “Dangerous game to play — putting your sharp skates in the same suitcase as your very delicate costumes.”

“It’s only one bag,” Murphy says.

“The one with our skates,” Raven says, feeling a bit dizzy.

Luna eyes her and communicates silently with Murphy. Raven hates when they do that. She’s still working on reading Luna a year later, but Murphy’s had a decade head start.

“Come,” he says, steering her toward a bench. “Luna will grab our bag when it comes out. Let’s go sit down for a bit.”

“We’ve been sitting for _hours_." She’s aware she’s whining, but she’s exhausted. And worried. And hungry. Still, she lets Murphy pull her along. She settles onto a bench, the one Luna marked with their carry-on luggage, with a sigh, and Murphy takes a seat beside her.

He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a granola bar, pushing it into her hands. “Eat,” he orders. “Your nervous energy is giving me anxiety.”

The squished Kind bar doesn’t look appetizing, but Murphy’s watching her expectantly, and so she peels the wrapper open and takes a small bite.

“Eat more,” he says and she rolls her eyes, teeth gnawing off a larger portion.

“Happy?” she asks through a mouthful of food.

He shoots her a look but doesn’t say anything.

After they get the last of their baggage, they catch an Uber to the hotel. They’re staying at a Sheraton not too far from the Greensboro Coliseum Complex, and as they arrive at the lobby, it is very clear many other figure skaters are staying in the same place.

Raven does feel a sense of comfort when they run into Clarke, Bellamy and Octavia in the elevator. They arrived yesterday, wanting a day to take in the sights and relax before things kicked into gear. There was a museum Bellamy had apparently been dying to check out for ages or something. Also, Octavia’s competition started a couple days earlier.

They stop to chat for a second, and Bellamy mentions that they’re on their way to an interview with NBC.

“Don’t be surprised if you guys get called up soon,” Bellamy says cheerily, and that definitely doesn’t do anything to quell Raven’s nerves.

“Media appearances. Yay,” Murphy deadpans when the elevator doors close.

“You guys will be fine,” Luna tuts. “Just remember to smile.”

“Tell that to Raven. We might have to put Vaseline on her teeth.”

Raven scowls at him. “Worry about yourself.”

“Someone’s hangry,” he mutters.

Luna rubs at her temples. “Here we go again. Can you guys act like adults for longer than five minutes?”

Thankfully for their stressed coach, one that had to endure their squabbling during an eight-hour-travel day of three separate flights, the elevator doors open out onto their floor. Raven tries to rein in her attitude, if only to spare her a further headache. The truth is that they’re all tired, and hungry, and anxious about tomorrow’s events.

Raven apologizes to her coach once they’re alone in their hotel room. Luna dismisses it, telling her there’s no need for her to say sorry.

“Sometimes I do wonder though…” Luna says, trailing off as she unzips her suitcase.

Raven tucks her leg under her on the bed. “What about?”

“Your bickering,” she answers. “I ask myself, ‘brother and sister’ or ‘husband and wife?’” She shrugs her shoulder and it takes Raven a full second to realize Luna is teasing her.

“That’s not funny,” Raven says. She picks up her phone from the nightstand and lays back on the bed. She pulls up Uber eats to see what’s around the area. “We were both only children for a reason,” she says flippantly.

Luna snorts. “Oh, trust me — I can tell.”

* * *

Raven curses under breath as she sees the events unfold on the ice a couple days later.

She doesn’t know if it’s something in the air, or if the ice was not properly resurfaced (she highly doubts this, the complex would have been extra careful when hosting an ISU competition of this scale), but everyone’s short programs are riddled with mistakes. Earlier, she watched the male skater of a Virginia pair pop his double axel, only to fall and have to race to catch up with his partner, who didn’t notice she’d left him behind.

It wouldn’t be the only fall of the day, which of course, is expected. U.S. pairs always have historically had issues landing their side-by-side jumps. But when Raven sees Clarke trip up after Bellamy places her down following the triple twist lift, and she tumbles to the floor, Raven’s nerves ramp up to 100. Clarke _rarely_ ever falls. Bellamy? All the time — definitely the weaker jumper between them both, but even so, he usually manages to skate by during competition.

Suddenly, her yellow skating dress feels too constricting. She and Murphy are taking the ice as soon as Bellamy and Clarke finish their program.

Murphy places a hand on her lower back. “Breathe,” he whispers in her ear. “We’ve run this a thousand times.”

Raven puts on a brave face, trying her best to quell her nerves so they don’t bleed onto him. “It’s going to be fine,” she says, more to herself than to him. There are so many people in the stands. Have there always been this many?

Their training partners wrap up their routine, Bellamy whispering something to Clarke as they step off the ice. Their coach rubs Clarke’s back when she hands her skating guards over. Knowing Clarke, she’s beating herself up for her mistake, but in the grand scheme of things, they’ll probably be okay. There are teams that have done worse.

So when their scores are shown and they rank third, Raven knows they’ll place for sure. Their free skate was a beast of a routine, and that was bound to boost them further up the leaderboard.

She and Murphy hand Luna their skating guards before gliding onto the ice, the announcer saying their names over the speakers. Her heart hammers in her chest as they get into position. The opening note of their tango echoes across the rink. Here goes nothing, she thinks.

Murphy locks eyes with her, and she focuses on that. On him, and his hands guiding their movements. She’d always loved the beginning of this routine, the dance elements the choreographers incorporated to lead into the first lasso lift, with Murphy lifting her above his head with just his hands on hers. Vaguely, she hears the applause as they spin on the ice.

It’s when they reach the throw triple loop, Raven completing her revolutions in the air, that she knows instinctively she won’t stick this landing. She lands on the toe of her skate, and topples forward on the ice. She catches herself, but the damage is done.

All at once, the applause becomes distracting. She knows she’s supposed to grab Murphy’s hand and she does, but her eyes rove the stands. Her muscles remember the rest of the routine but it’s like her brain has fallen behind. She almost misses the fact that Murphy falls, actually falls — hard on his butt — during their side-by-side triple toe loops.

He powers on through, getting up and seamlessly continuing the routine. But the next time he takes her hand, she can feel a trembling in his fingers.

When the music cuts off, and they hold their embraced dipped position for the requisite amount of time, Raven can’t tell who’s shaking more. Murphy brings her back up and they bow to the audience, making sure to do so on all sides while holding a smile.

Once that is done, he cups her face in his hands, and she holds on to his wrists. “You okay?” he asks.

She nods. “Are you?”

He nods back, and tucks her under his arm as they skate toward Luna.

Raven feels like kicking herself, that’s how disappointed she is. The elements they messed up are the same ones Luna told them to watch out for, repeatedly, and maybe they got too cocky because sectionals and finals had gone so well, but it was apparent that they didn’t take her seriously. And they should’ve. Those damn triple toe loops.

But instead of telling them ‘I told you so,’ Luna is reassuring. “It wasn’t as bad as you think,” she says as she hands them their skating guards. They don’t say anything, silently following her to the kiss and cry.

Raven sees the sports announcers speaking into their mics, and god, she wishes she could hear what they were saying. Fuck, she’s so aggravated with herself.

And their score of 62.5 doesn’t help.

“Well, it’s higher than what we got a sectionals,” Murphy says.

“By a tenth of a point.” And that was probably because they’ve upped most of their doubles to triples.

She tries to keep a neutral face for the cameras, but inside she wants to scream. She knows they can do better. They have done better.

Murphy doesn’t seem too bothered by it all, and that only annoys her more. He should be upset, like she is upset.

They head backstage to the locker rooms to change and once she’s in comfortable clothing and shoes, she waits for Murphy in the hallway. She can hear the muted sounds from the announcer as another pair takes the stage.

Sixth place. There’s no way they can come back from that.

“You need to relax, Reyes.”

Raven jumps at the sound of Murphy’s voice, turning around to see him exit the locker room.

“How can I relax? We sucked,” she says.

“Raven, everyone has sucked today. I’m sure the ISU is thrilled at its prospects for Team USA.”

“Yeah, but sixth place? We can kiss Worlds goodbye. I’ve already done the math — there’s no way we’ll place high enough to qualify, even if we land every single element perfectly on Saturday.” The frustration is apparent in her voice, even as she hushes in case others were listening. “Unless you’ve been holding out on me and can suddenly do a triple axel.”

Murphy sidles closer to her, bracing his body on the wall. “Raven,” he says with a sigh. “It’s our first big competition as a new pair. I wasn’t expecting to go to Worlds.”

She crosses her arms. Sure, it was a stretch, but she had hoped… How amazing would it have been to get a Team USA jacket this season. "It would have been nice," she mutters.

Murphy mirrors her stance and shrugs. “Rome wasn’t built in a day, right?” When she doesn’t respond, he nudges her with his foot. “ _Right?”_

She sighs. “Right.” He sounds like Bellamy. Ugh, they’ve been hanging out too much.

“Great, glad we’re on the same page," He pushes off the wall and takes hold of her hands, leading her out to the lobby area. "Now, I’m fucking starving and my ass hurts, so I say we hit the vending machine before we join Luna in the stands.”

Raven considers this and then agrees with a nod, feeling calmer than she had been five minutes prior. Murphy had a way of doing that, even before he took pointers on motivational speaking from Bellamy. She's actually annoyed at how easy he talked her down. “How mad do you think Luna will be if I get those mini-powdered donuts?”

“She’ll let you slide — just be sure to give her one.” 

“As I’m sharing food after _that_ skate,” she huffs.

“Oh, then you’re on your own.”

* * *

The next day, they watch Octavia kill it on the ice, her gritty, dark free skate routine set to Billie Eilish’s “Bad Guy,” wowing the judges enough to land her in second place. The girl can barely contain her glee when she stands in the winner’s circle, the silver medal glinting around her neck. She’s looking into the audience at someone, and when Raven follows her line of vision, she sees her boyfriend. Lincoln is grinning back at her, and it appears like to them, there’s no one else around.

Clarke and Bellamy invite them to go celebrate at a nearby restaurant, and after assuring Luna that, yes, they won’t be out too late, she arches an eyebrow and buries her nose back in her tablet, kicking up her feet in bed. In Luna language, that meant, “Fine, go ahead.”

“Do you think it’s a little weird we ask our coach for permission?” Raven asks as they head downstairs to meet the others.

They enter the elevator and Murphy presses the button for the lobby. “Who are we going to ask, our parents?” He chuckles to himself.

“Dark,” Raven remarks.

“We are the orphans of the ISU,” he says. “Or so goes the narrative.”

The elevator bells dings and the doors slide open into the expansive main floor. She looks at him in confusion. “What?”

To answer her question, Murphy pulls out his phone and opens it as they walk toward their friends, who are waiting for them in a cluster of chairs. He hands it to her, screen displaying an article on the US Figure Skating website announcing Nationals would be taking place this week in North Carolina. Raven scrolls down to the mentions of pair skaters who would be competing, finding a brief summary of “who to watch” this season. Bellamy and Clarke’s names are there, obviously, calling them a pair to love both on and off the ice and giving a recap of their most recent skates.

She immediately hones in on her name and Murphy’s mentioned right after.

_Blake and Griffin’s training partners shouldn’t be omitted from this list either. Raven Reyes and John Murphy were a pair no one saw coming, forming in spring of 2018 after Murphy’s longtime partner, Emori D’Oliveira, retired from the sport. Both orphans of skilled figure skaters (Murphy’s late parents Alex and Cynthia Murphy were bronze Olympic pair medalists in 2006; Reyes’ mother Soledad Reyes was a silver U.S. skating medalist in 1996), the pair took a year off before entering the 2020 competition season._

_Whatever they did on that sabbatical, an oddity in itself in this world, has seemed to pay off. This pair has trailblazed their way into the U.S. championships, enthralling judges with their connection on the ice._

Overall, it was a positive thing that they were mentioned in the article, and it didn’t say anything inaccurate — they were orphans. Raven was only 17 when her mother died, and she lived with Finn’s parents for a few months until she turned 18 and could return to her own home. Still, she acknowledges that, while the word “orphan” doesn’t bother her, it carries a different connotation for Murphy, who for as much bravado as he tried to portray himself, carried the death of his parents like a chip on his shoulder.

She had been old enough to process her mom’s death, which also hadn’t been unexpected. Raven had two full years to get used to the fact her mom would one day be gone, had attended all her chemo appointments in Boise and cared for her right until cancer took her. That had been difficult, and because of that, she can’t even begin to imagine how much hurt Murphy carried around. He never got the chance to say goodbye.

He didn’t talk about his parents much. She figured it was too painful, but maybe, it was a conversation they should have. One day.

The smell of garlic and freshly-baked bread envelops them as they walk inside the quaint Italian restaurant Octavia picked out. The hostess walks them to a six-person table near the back, and they slide into the expansive booth.

You would think, as people who watched what they ate religiously (with the exception of Murphy), that they would carefully pore over the menu and take their time in deciding what to order, perhaps weighing healthy options versus indulgent options. But the second their waitress comes back with their waters, all of them are ready to order, and their silent unanimous decision to indulge in their cravings is a surprise to no one.

“We’re definitely getting dessert, by the way,” Octavia says after their waitress leaves. “I haven’t had a tiramisu in ages.”

“Whatever the champion wants, she gets,” Lincoln says.

“Anything but alcohol,” Bellamy chimes in, and his sister rolls her eyes. “You still got some years before you can drink.”

“Except in Montreal, which I’m pretty sure I’ll be headed to this spring,” Octavia says. “Worlds, here I come.”

“Cocky,” Bellamy chides, but it falls flat. They all knew that, in a few days when the announcement for which pairs, ice dancers and figure skaters would head to both Worlds and Four Continents, Octavia’s name would be on the list. It will be her first time competing in the international stage.

“Big brother will just have to deal with it,” Murphy says, earning him a glare from Bellamy. “What? It’s legal up there. She can just buy it herself.”

“He does have a point, Bell,” Raven pipes in.

“Bad influences. That’s what you are,” Bellamy says.

Lincoln motions between her and Murphy. “So how long have you guys been together?”

“Oh us?” Raven asks. “We paired up almost two years ago.”

Lincoln smiles, and leans forward in his chair. “No, I meant, when did you start dating?”

Next to her, Murphy stifles a laugh when she chokes on her water. Octavia looks at her boyfriend in humor. “Babe, they’re not dating.”

He seems genuinely taken aback at this, his face awash with embarrassment. “Oh, sorry. I just thought—”

“It’s OK,” Raven says. There was no need for him to explain himself. It was an honest mistake. She and Murphy did spend a lot of time together, and their respective social media pages were full of photos of the two of them. Granted, most were posts about their skating, but if that was all Lincoln ever saw prior to meeting in person, she didn’t fault him for his error.

Murphy tears a bread roll in half. “It’s not your fault,” he tells Lincoln. “She obviously wants me.”

Trust him to do that, she thinks. She swivels her head in his direction. “Because you’re so irresistible.”

He licks his bottom lip before trapping it between his teeth and she feels a swirl of heat course through her.

“Bingo,” he says with a wolfish grin. He knocks his knee against hers under the table in jest. To the rest of the table, he says, “I’m just kidding. She’s like my… sister.”

Raven doesn’t miss the pause before he said that, almost like he forced the word out. It doesn’t seem like anyone at the table noticed, except maybe Bellamy who arches his brow in response. She convinces herself she’s reading too much into things. Murphy was her family. It shouldn’t sound so wrong to have him describe her as his sister.

Lincoln nods, looking thoughtful for a beat. “Well, there is something to be said about chosen family,” he says. “Blood doesn’t always run thicker than water.”

Murphy lifts his glass to that. “Cheers to that.” He clinks his water glass with Octavia's. "And cheers to our young prodigy here, who is absolutely going to murder the competition in Montreal this year. May you land all your triples."

Octavia beams at him.

* * *

Backstage in the ice rink the following day, Raven paces. Already dressed in her silver skating costume, the mesh sleeves itchy and doing a poor job of keeping her warm, she picks at her nails as she walks up and down the corridor leading to the rink.

Murphy emerges from the changing room. “Don’t you get dizzy?” he asks. “You should save your energy.”

Their free skate was a monster routine. She knows he’s right, but she’s been on edge since they landed in North Carolina. She hasn’t been sleeping well, either, tossing and turning all night, enough that she applied her concealer generously as she got ready for the skate, both under her eyes and on the bruises on her legs.

He reaches for her, spinning her around by the waist. “Raven, talk to me. You haven’t been yourself all week.”

Her mouth feels dry, and she places her hands against his chest. “I’m so scared,” she whispers. All the emotions she’s suppressed for the last few days hit her full-force, and she looks up at her partner for… reassurance? Comfort? Solidarity? Maybe a little of all three.

Murphy twines his hands with hers, keeping them in place by his heart. “We’ve got this,” he tells her, conviction firm in his voice.

“I know,” she says, and then with a shaky laugh adds, “I’m still fucking scared though.”

He brings her in for a hug, and they shift from foot to foot as they swing side to side. That’s how Luna finds them, and waves them in. They’re up next.

They skate onto the rink and this time, Raven tunes every noise out. She keeps a small smile on her lips for the judges as they get into position, but that too disappears once the music starts. Raven has memorized the slow piano melody, and her body moves almost on its own accord.

This skate feels different from the short program. Raven makes sure to keep her eyes on Murphy when they execute their first lift, her body on its side as Murphy holds her up by her hip, her hand braced on his shoulder as they twirl on the ice.

The irony of this routine is, the more the lyrics sing about burning out, Raven only grows more fired up. The violin sears into her soul, powering her through the butterfly jump sequence.

She feels like she’s flying, and when Murphy throws her in the air, she is. Her skate lands on the ice and she barely has enough time to get ready for their side-by-side double axels. Adrenaline has taken over, and she and Murphy do their sit spins, the music picking up in intensity. Her favorite part of this routine has always been the choreography at the climax of the piece. Murphy lifts her by the waist, keeping her suspended as he spins around on the ice, immediately launching into a lasso lift. After he places her down, it’s a swirl of close camel spins, their bodies intertwined with each other. A precursor to their next big move, the death spiral, and as she draws a circle around Murphy, she can feel the chill of the ice just a couple inches below her.

It was chaotic, and beautiful, and intense.

And just as quickly as it began, it was over. Raven’s back is heaving against Murphy’s, and he squeezes her hand. The applause is deafening, people are standing up, and the sweepers are zipping on the ice, collecting teddy bears, flowers and other small tokens. She and Murphy bow, and she can’t keep the smile off her face.

Murphy touches his forehead to hers, wrapping his arms around her. It’s become second nature to her to do the same, to breathe his exhaustion and excitement in as her own.

Luna is nodding approvingly when they get off the ice. “Now that’s magic.”

* * *

Raven is watching the broadcast for the fifth time in a row. She can’t tear her eyes away.

Fourth place. The pewter medal is in her own hotel room at the minute, but Murphy’s is in plain view from where he placed it on the dresser. She’ll never forget the feeling of seeing their combined score climb them up the leaderboard, nor the euphoria that followed when it sank in that they actually pulled that off.

Watching herself perform with Murphy through the lens of Luna’s iPhone was one thing; seeing it unfold in high-resolutions from TV camera was another. They were able to zoom in closer than Luna’s phone, and it’s almost like having an out-of-body experience — watching herself skate with Murphy, and hearing the announcers remark on how connected they appeared, and the ease that seemed to flow from their graceful movements.

The news clip ends with a brief interview with NBC sports, and it brings a smile to Raven’s face each time she watches it. Murphy cringed upon first watch and disappeared into the bathroom for a shower, muttering about how he looked like an idiot.

But he didn’t. Not by a mile.

_“I know this has been in the works for a while, but where did this partnership come from?” the reporter asks. “Really, you guys looked like you’ve been skating together for years out there.”_

_Raven smiles, looking up at Murphy, who shrugs. He still can’t believe they placed. His hand brushes over the medal around his neck every few seconds. So Raven takes that as a cue to answer the question herself. “Thank you,” she says. “It’s been a whirlwind. I never thought I would be competing again, and here I am.”_

_“Right, you were technically retired,” the reporter says and Raven nods. “What’s different about skating with John?”_

_She considers the question for a second. “Umm… I think it just feels right. You know, we both had longtime skating partners prior to us joining forces, and I think we learned a lot from those partnerships. We’re excited for the future, for sure.”_

_The reporter turns to Murphy. “That was a big comeback for you guys today on the ice. How are you feeling?”_

_Murphy sputters like he doesn’t know what to say. “It feels amazing. I think for it being our first time competing at Nationals, fourth place isn’t too shabby.”_

_“Not shabby at all,” the reporter agrees. “Both of you have practically grown up on the ice. What do you think your parents would say if they were here today?”_

_Murphy looks down at Raven, and Raven remembers that in that moment, she almost forgot they were being interviewed. “I think our parents would be proud.”_

_Raven nods in agreement, and the camera lens doesn’t miss the moisture in her eyes. You can’t fake that emotion._

_“Well I’m sure they’re watching over you guys right now with big smiles.” The reporter says, turning back to the camera._

They have another interview later today with U.S. Figure Skating, but Luna told them that will probably be more of a fun one to help the public get to know them.

She looks up from her phone when Murphy enters the room, wearing only a towel around his waist. She can see the beads of water adorning his shoulders, the steam from the bathroom wafting into the small hotel room.

“Forget your clothes?” she asks.

“This is my room,” he says. “You’re more than welcome to head back to yours.”

She falls back on the bed. “And have to listen to Luna tell me all the things fix once we get back home? No thanks. I’d rather keep riding the high of placing.”

“Well then don’t complain,” he says.

She wasn't complaining, she thinks as glances at him from the corner of her eye, at the way his arms flex while he digs around in his suitcase for something to wear. His hair, wet from the shower, falls onto his eyes, and Raven gets that warm flutter in her core. She immediately shuts her eyes, willing herself to not go down that rabbit hole. She is a woman of self-control.

Her phone buzzes in her hand and Raven brings it to her face, thankful for something other than a virtually naked Murphy to think about.

 _READ THIS,_ Luna demands in a text, accompanied by a link to the US Figure Skating Website.

Raven sits up and clicks on it. Butterflies swirl in her stomach because she knows exactly what this press release will announce: Who will be competing in Worlds and in Four Continents. 

“Murphy, it’s out,” she blurts out. “The list is out.”

He flies to her side, now dressed in a pair of tight boxer briefs he snuck on underneath his towel, and together, they read the announcement.

“Well I’ll be damned, Clarke and Bellamy are headed to Worlds,” he says.

He’s a much slower reader than she thought because Raven has already reached the end and is about to jump out of her skin in excitement “Keep reading.”

It takes him a second, but when he gets there, he lets out a loud holler, and topples her onto the bed. She’s laughing, elated and shocked and so, so, so excited. She doesn’t even mind that he’s getting her all wet, or his skimpy attire, but he is crushing her, and she rolls out from underneath him.

Lying beside each other on the bed, Raven can’t believe this is happening. “We did it, Murph. We’re going to Four Continents.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support! I've been floored by your response to this story, and it means a lot. Your comments are so appreciated, and they definitely keep me motivated to write ;) Until next time!


	6. 2020: Part II

_February 2020_

Seoul was beyond anything Raven could have ever imagined.

From the high-rise buildings that embodied the meaning behind skyscrapers, to the blinding lights and colorful edgy stores, hip cafes and themed restaurants, there seemed to be something new to explore, something new to gawk at, and something new to peruse at every corner.

The minute they land, Raven is overwhelmed by the newness of it all — the modern architecture, the sounds. You don’t hear a lot of Korean in Idaho, but the longer she listens to it, the more she realizes what a beautiful language it is. 

The last few days have been chaotic, and the 14-hour flight from Boise to Seattle, to now Incheon International Airport, has been the first time she and Murphy have been able to relax. The same day after the announcement that they were going to Four Continents, they got their invitation to perform at the exhibition for Nationals. They performed their Outlander routine, as that one had not been showcased yet during competition and the program was relatively easy in comparison to their other stuff.

Then, it was a whirlwind of preparations, with just a few weeks to plan and book their flight to Seoul. Originally, Luna was coming with them, but three days before they were supposed to leave, she canceled because one of her twins came down with a terrible case of strep throat that soon her whole family all caught. Murphy and Raven assured her that they would be fine, they were adults after all. Still, Luna's absence gave them a bit of anxiety, only because she was constantly bombarding them with messages and calls.

Especially after significant delays in air travel going to Asia, with news reports talking about some sort of new virus in China, meant they ended up arriving to Seoul a whole day later, leaving them only one day of practice on the ice. Raven is doing her best not to stress about it but… yeah, she’s stressing.

They arrive by taxi after nightfall to their hotel, a tall skyscraper in the Gangnam district even though the recommended hotel was in Mok-dong near the rink. But Murphy had insisted in staying Gangnam, wanting to be closer to more of the sights they wanted to see on their off-time, which due to their late arrival in Seoul, was pretty limited.

Without Luna, it seemed silly to book two hotel rooms, since she and Luna usually went for a room with two beds, and there was no reason she and Murphy couldn't cohabitate for a few days in the same space. So they canceled one and kept the other. A friendly hotel employee checks them in, and room card in hand, Murphy totes their luggage into the elevator with a long sigh.

“I’m exhausted,” he says. “I’m ready to shower and go straight to bed. Longest flight of my life.”

“Yep,” Raven agrees. That’s all she has the energy to do. Idleness, particularly while crammed in an airplane seat, takes a toll on the body.

Their exhaustion triples when they see what awaits them inside the room. A single queen-size bed has been squeezed into the small space, accompanied only by a dresser, a mirror, a TV mounted on the wall, and a door that Raven assumes leads to the bathroom. Raven shakes her head, as if by doing so, a second bed would magically appear.

“Well shit,” Murphy says.

Raven sighs. “I’ll get it sorted.” She drops her backpack by Murphy’s feet, wallet in hand, and turns back out into the hallway. The must have gotten the wrong room. No biggie, she thinks. The hotel will fix it.

Unfortunately, the front desk can’t do much to help them, at least for tonight. There’s no other clean rooms available at their price point at this late hour, and Raven doesn’t really feel like paying the upcharge to be upgraded to a deluxe room. The employee does tell her they can switch them to a new room, but a full three days from now. Raven thanks him for his help, and tells him they’ll sort it out in the morning, not wanting to deal with fixing the problem tonight if they were just going to end up sleeping in the same room.

When she tells Murphy this, he just shrugs from his spot on the bed. “I don’t really think moving rooms three days from now will make much of a difference. We’re only here for a week.”

“You really want to share a bed for seven days?” Raven says.

“It’s not that I _want_ to share a bed. I just don’t see it as a huge issue. Three days from now, we’re going to be right in the middle of a major competition. I don’t really want to deal with switching rooms.”

She eyes the bed warily, and Murphy smiles to himself before standing up and pulling her to him. She plops down beside him.

“So we’re sleeping together,” he tells her. “What’s the big deal?”

She whips in his direction, her ponytail swishing against the side of her neck. “We’re _not_ sleeping together.”

He just chuckles, laying back on the bed, hands tucked underneath his head. “You know what I mean. You get riled up so easy.” Reaching up for the pillows on the bed, he creates a barrier between them. “There, now you have your side, and I have mine.”

But the barrier doesn’t last for long. Once they have both showered and are ready for bed, they discover the pillows really take up too much space. So onto the floor they go.

Raven flips the lights off and gets underneath the covers. She can feel Murphy’s body heat radiating through the small distance between them. She doesn’t mind it, but it’s a constant reminder that he’s there.

With their backs to each other, there’s a note of awkwardness in the air. Perhaps Murphy senses it, because he feels the need to break the stretched silence.

“You know... I’m an excellent spoon.”

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

He laughs softly, and the sound causes a pleasant thrill down her spine. “Goodnight, Reyes.”

“Goodnight, Murph.”

* * *

The caliber of competitors at Four Continents blows Raven’s mind.

Of course, she knew going in that people were going to be good — amazing, even — but to see it yourself? To see the lifts executed by the likes of Chinese pair Sui Weijing and Han Cong, and the musicality in the choreography of Kirsten Moore-Towers and Michael Marinaro… It put things in perspective.

If they really wanted to make it to the Olympics in 2022, she and Murphy had a long road of them.

That being said, landing fifth wasn’t something to scoff at, and while they didn’t place nor get invited to perform at exhibition, they did get a bronze medal for their “Circles” free skate routine. That was something to be celebrated — their first medal together on the international stage, as well as Raven’s first. Murphy got a silver medal for his short program with Emori the time they went to Worlds a few years ago.

Seeking out nightlife outside of their hotel room, she and Murphy hop on a metro out of Gangnam to visit this place he had read about on the plane. Common Ground, a sort of shopping mall made entirely out of shipping containers in another area in Seoul. Honestly, this city was not only giant, but full of so many people, that Raven almost tried to talk Murphy out of going to this place, already anticipating giant crowds of tourists and overpriced vendors.

But once they got there, she had to admit, the place had a certain vibe she was inexplicably drawn to. Yes, there were a lot of people, but also so many food stalls, hipster cafes and rooftop bars. Murphy makes a beeline for the street vendors, and Raven has no choice but to follow him, not wanting to lose him in the crowd. Soon, they’re sitting at a table on the outskirts of all the action, surrounded by several plates of food and a couple Korean beers.

Murphy points at all the foods he got for them to try. There’s a chicken and scallion kabob he said is called dakkochi, some tempura and something called hotteok Murphy is really excited to taste. They’ve been eating a lot since they landed in Seoul, and Murphy has been on cloud nine. He tried to get her to eat some octopus sashimi the other night in a restaurant, but Raven declined, opting to watch him in both fascination and horror as he munched on the still-squiggling pieces of octopus.

Murphy takes a bite of the hotteok, and closes his eyes with a soft moan. “You’ve got to try this,” he says, and holds the fluffy pancake out to her.

The rich sweetness of the honey filling perfectly balances the dough, melting in her mouth, and Raven hums in appreciation.

“Isn’t that amazing?” he says and she nods, mouth full. She holds his wrist in place and goes in for a second bite. “I love Seoul. I never want to go back.”

Raven raises an eyebrow. “Just yesterday you were complaining about how much Seoul stinks. You said you missed the mountain air.”

He waves her comment away. “That was yesterday. I hadn’t had hotteok yet.”

“You don’t even speak Korean.”

“I know how to order food. That’s all I need for now.”

“Right, until you get a craving for pizza,” she says, reaching over for the chicken kabobs. “Then, you’ll wish you were back in Polis.”

This gets him riled up, as they both recall seeing the long line of people waiting for a “New York-style” slice outside a local joint by their hotel, and Murphy’s horrified expression when he saw what the pizza looked like.

“Shrimp has no business belonging on a pizza, and I stand by that,” he says.

Raven grins, looking around and taking in the sights of everyone around them. She can’t believe they’ve been in Seoul for a week. Time has really flown. She notices something in particular, something that quite honestly has been on her mind since they left the ISU bubble last night. It hadn't been as apparent as when they spent most of the day practicing and watching the competition, but today, they have been sightseeing all over Seoul, and as the day wore on, Raven wondered if there was something to worry about.

“Hey, there’s a lot more people wearing masks today, isn’t there?”

Murphy frowns. “Hmm. I guess. Must be smog or something." 

“Do you think we should be wearing masks?”

“Well not now, we’re eating. I know you're a great multitasker, but I think that one's a bit past your skillset,” She glares at him and he holds his hands up in surrender. “Joking. Listen, we’re leaving tomorrow. I think we’ll be fine.”

Raven can’t shake off the feeling that this has more to do than just air pollution. “But that virus—”

“Is in China,” Murphy says. “Relax. We’re fine.”

In the end, he’s probably right. They were headed back to the states tomorrow. And not everybody around them was wearing a mask, especially not the tourists.

She’s still thinking about it when she gets out of the shower that night, towel-drying her hair as she steps into their small room. Murphy is sitting up on the edge of the bed, wearing long flannel pajamas and a Henley. “I’m never going to get over how fast the internet is here,” he tells her. “Seriously, I just uploaded a photo in less than a second.”

He holds his phone out to her and she smiles when she sees what he posted. Earlier in the day, they asked a couple of Australian tourists to take their photo in a street in Gangnam. They were quite surprised when Murphy lifted Raven effortlessly off the ground into a perfect lasso lift. At least it was, until they started laughing.

_Unsupervised chaos. #doyouevenliftbro_

“Nice caption,” Raven says with a roll of her eyes. “Very creative.”

“I thought about ‘And they were ‘Seoul-mates,’ you know — playing off the meme? But then I thought, ‘do people even remember Vine?’” He leans back on the bed, pushed into a tiny corner of the room.

“Funny, because we’re roommates, huh? And it’s been such a walk in the park.”

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated.”

She smiles to herself while she brushes her hair. Murphy wasn’t a terrible roommate, but the one bed situation had definitely run its course. This morning, she woke up all over him, literally using him as a human pillow. Her only saving grace was that Murphy slept like the dead, and she woke up before he did. How embarrassing would it have been otherwise. He’d never let her live that down. He already used every opportunity to tease her, and she didn't need to give him more ammunition. 

She picks up her phone from the small black dresser, seeing the notification that @callmemurphy had tagged her in a new photo. She taps on it, wanting to take a second look at the photo. She almost does a double-take then, seeing the comment underneath Bellamy’s ever original _I do lift, bro. Thanks for asking._

It’s Emori.

_Memento_Emori: Love the creative execution. 10/10_

“Did you see this?” Raven holds her phone out to Murphy.

He squints. “Oh yeah. I saw. Nice of her.”

Raven raises her eyebrows in surprise. “Nice of her?” She saunters over to the bed, suddenly full of curiosity. He was holding out on her. “Have you guys been talking again?”

He shrugs noncommittally. “She called me right after Nationals. We caught up for a bit.” Seeing her expression, he rolls his eyes. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“I’m not thinking anything.”

“She’s dating someone else. We’re just friends. She was in my life for a long time, you know?”

The flood of relief that washes over her is unexpected. She feels herself unclench her jaw, didn't even realize it was clenched in the first place, and she wonders why the thought of him getting back together brought forth such strong emotions. She makes sure her face is as neutral as possible. “Okay, sure. You don’t have to explain yourself. I was just curious.”

He settles back on the bed as he gives her a cursory glance. “Yeah? What else are you curious about?”

The mood shifts, and Raven is at odds at how to answer what feels like a loaded question, especially when coupled with the way Murphy’s shirt has ridden up to expose a line of skin above the waistband of his pants. It's moments like these over the past few days that have made the one-bed situation worse. She could never tell if Murphy was teasing her, or being serious, but he always left a hypothetical door open for her to walk through, and Raven knew exactly what laid on the other side: A line that they shouldn't cross. Sometimes, she wondered if he was aware of what he was doing. He had to be...

She doesn’t get a chance to reply to him. His phone starts ringing, and the moment is broken.

He reaches for his phone. “Luna. She wants to FaceTime.” He heaves himself up with a groan and Raven settles in beside him, skin feeling a bit hot.

“Hi Luna,” they say in tandem.

“How was your last night in Seoul?” she asks them. In the background, they can hear giggling. Luna’s boys must be feeling a lot better. She still has a rasp in her voice, but she's looking a lot better than she was a couple days ago.

“Good, but I’m ready to get home,” Raven says. “Not Murphy though, he said he’s never leaving.”

“The food, Luna. It’s so good here,” he adds.

“Alas, all good things must come to an end,” Luna says. “Now, tell me about Four Continents.”

Raven and Murphy exchange a look, silently communicating their amusement. As if Luna didn’t already know everything. She might not have been here physically, but Raven would bet a lot of money that she was watching the broadcast.

“You already know the results,” Murphy says.

“Right, but I want to know your observations. Now that you’ve had time to process the whole competition, why do you think you didn’t place?”

“Because it’s not the Russians we should have been concerned about, it’s the Chinese.”

Unimpressed, Luna tilts her head. “That’s _all_ you learned?”

Murphy is giving Luna a hard time. He and Raven have already had this conversation, though trust their coach to not wait until they were back on U.S soil to go over what they need to work on next. Raven appreciates her for it; now that their competition season was over — at least until Skate America this summer, should they be invited — she needed goals to work toward. And she and Murphy knew exactly what they were.

“It’s our lifts,” Raven says, knowing that Murphy would never be the one to say anything. “They’re too safe. Not creative enough.”

There was nothing technically wrong with their lifts, but seeing the other teams during competition opened Raven’s eyes that, beyond the United States, these other skaters were really taking risks. Some of these girls looked like ragdolls the way their partners were tossing them around on the ice, albeit very graceful ragdolls.

Murphy shifts on the bed, sighing as he rubs his temples. “Plus our twist lifts. We need to get more height.”

She likes that he used the word “we.” She may be the one flying in the air during those lifts, but Murphy recognized he played a role in it too, a big one. His throws were the backbone that element. That he sees that without her having to point it out makes her feel at ease.

The next few months were going to be difficult, but knowing this is an equal partnership… That made a world of difference. More reason to avoid temptation, present as Murphy places a hand on her knee during their conversation with Luna.

* * *

_March 2020_

They always managed to work up a sweat on the ice, but that was nothing in comparison to how much perspiration they produced on the training mats. Raven’s hair is sticking to her forehead, and she is struggling to maintain her position. Suspended on her back above Murphy’s head, in a split with her nose touching her shin, the only thing keeping her from tumbling down onto the mat was Murphy’s very sweaty palm supporting her lower back.

“I’m slipping,” she warns.

“No you’re not,” he says, teeth gritted with effort while turning. “I got you.”

He did not, in fact, have her. Just as the words leave his lips, she feels her center of gravity shift, and her heart jumps in her chest. Murphy curses as he grabs her hip with his other hand, flipping her back on her feet like a windmill.

She pants with exertion, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Nice save.” She turns next to Luna and their choreographer, hoping they’ve seen enough for today. They’re both exhausted. “Was that beautiful enough for you?”

“It was shit,” their choreographer says bluntly. “This lift is supposed to look effortless, like you’re a beautiful butterfly spreading your wings.”

“Right, except I’m spreading my legs so,” she says, drawing a laugh out of Murphy he not-so-subtly tries to cover with a cough.

“Raven,” Luna admonishes, and Raven raises her hands in surrender. Their coach turns to their choreographer. “Thank you, Oleksander, for coming out today. We’ll work on this part of the routine and see you next week.”

Oleksander nods, giving her a rare smile. Then, turning to Murphy and Raven, he points his index finger at them. “Your sit spins are much improved.”

They startle simultaneously, exchanging a look of surprise. “Was that—”

“A compliment?” Murphy finishes. “Miracles do happen.”

Luna tries to appear annoyed, but they know her well enough to see that she’s trying to hide a smirk. She clears her throat and tosses them each a towel. They know what’s coming next.

Ever since they’ve returned from Seoul, Luna has started doing this after every practice. She asks them two things they’ve learned that day, and it’s so elementary that it drives both her and Murphy up the wall. They don’t understand why she keeps asking it; it’s not like they give her serious answers.

“So,” she says, clasping her hands together. “Lessons learned?”

“Spreading your legs can be beautiful,” Raven says.

“Ah, that’s a good one,” Murphy says. “As for me, I’ve learned that Oleksander is actually capable of not being an asshat.”

Luna purses her lips. “You done? OK good. Want to know what _I_ learned today?” A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as she flicks her eyes to Raven. “This is a very hard lift. A little scary even. And yet, Murphy almost dropped you and you didn’t bat an eye.”

Murphy seems to take offense to this. “I didn’t drop her.”

“I didn’t say that you did. I was just pointing out an observation. Not so long ago, you would have freaked out,” Luna says to her. “What’s changed?”

Raven shrugs. “I didn’t really think much of it to be honest.”

This seems to be the answer Luna was searching for. She leans back against the wall, pleased. “Good, because these are just elements for your short program. We haven’t even gotten to the showstopper moves in your free skate. You wanted to push yourselves, so we’re pushing.”

That sounds ominous. She feels a nervous excitement bubble in her belly and she fights back the urge to press Luna for more information. So far, Luna has kept them in the dark about what she has planned for their free skate, urging them instead to focus on the short program for now, which Raven loves. It’s leagues better than last season’s tango routine, more of a melancholic lyrical piece, the kind Raven has always favored.

Luna dismisses them with a wave of her hand, reminding them that they are supposed to meet tomorrow at the costume store to figure out what they were going to wear for Skate America this summer, their invitation having come just a few days after their return from Four Continents. Raven is bracing herself, knowing she’s about to drop a few thousand quicker than she could bat an eyelid.

Thankfully, their winnings from their recent competitions should cover it, and if they place high enough in Skate America, perhaps they can even get some of that money back.

She spends the rest of the day working at the outfitters, mainly helping a few of the late season skiers and snowboarders trying to get their fill before the snow melts. Raven’s more than ready for spring and summer. Maybe she’ll actually gain enough motivation to fix up her yard, which when not blanketed with snow, is full of dead grass and weeds. It’s pitiful, really.

She feels Sinclair sneak up on her, ruffling her hair as she tries to get away. “Nice job with the inventory, kid,” he tells her. “That back room has never looked more organized.”

Raven fixes her ponytail, shaking her head in amusement. “I did that two days ago, but nice of you to notice.”

“You’re so proactive.” He lays his clipboard down on the counter, scribbling away at some paperwork.

“And you’re distracted,” she says. “Have been for a few weeks. What’s going on?”

“It never ceases to amaze me how observant you are,” Sinclair says. She doesn't tell him it's easy to be observant when working in a small shop. He motions for her to follow him into his office, and she glances at a few customers that are perusing the few clothing racks in front of the store. “It’ll just take a minute," he reassures.

She nods and falls into step behind him, venturing into the tiny closet-like space Sinclair spends most of his time in. His desk is a horrid mess, full of so many papers it’s a wonder he can find space for his laptop among the clutter. In the corner, a half-empty mug of coffee sits, obviously one that hadn’t moved since this morning. Maybe longer.

He digs around in his papers until he finds what he’s looking for: a draft of what appear to be building dimensions.

“Are we moving?” she asks. It wouldn’t make sense to move the store, not when they got such good business for being right on resort property. But she guesses this space goes for a premium, and maybe Sinclair was hoping to capitalize more on the people staying off-property.

“No, Jacapo Outfitters isn’t going anywhere,” he reassures her. “I know working here is extremely convenient for you, with the rink being so close and all. But, I am planning to open a second location.”

“Sinclair, that’s amazing."

He shrugs modestly, but she can the see the palpable excitement in his eyes. This was major. This business has been his life ever since he opened up shop in his early 20s after the former rental operator retired. Sinclair took over, rebranded and worked his ass off long before Raven came in as a terrified 14 year old looking for a quick replacement of skates a week before competition after she damaged her old pair beyond repair during practice.

“Business has been good lately,” he says. “Mt. Weather is gaining more popularity, and I think the time to expand is now before Polis really booms.”

“Smart,” Raven notes with approval.

He clicks his tongue. “This old man’s got a brain for business, what can I say. I think 2020 will really be something. Maybe you’ll come back with a gold after Skate America.”

She hums. “May the skating gods hear you.”

* * *

Luna has a particular vision in mind for their free skate, and so aside from getting measured, they don’t have much say in what they want. Probably for the better, since Murphy was always so intent on wearing all-black ensembles. It’s clear that their coach has the opposite vision.

“That’s beautiful,” she remarks upon seeing Raven exit the dressing room.

The dress is a dusty rose, darkening at the hem into a black ombre. Complete with crystals all around the V-shaped neckline and down the sleeves, it is a delicate statement piece.

“I like it,” Raven says, though inwardly, she is cringing at the $2,800 price tag.

It’s clear it’s a done deal even before Murphy emerges from his own dressing room. Luna examines her from head to toe, a hand on her chin as she thinks through her vision. The attendant wanders behind Raven and places a few clips here and there to improve the fit — they’ll have to order it to size anyway. This was just a sample.

“Good, that looks good. Neckline needs to be a little higher. Add a nude pair of tights and we should be good to go. You can wear your hair up as always, maybe add some curl to it.”

As they fret about her costume, pointing out alterations to the hem where Luna felt it should be a bit shorter, Raven looks to the TV in the corner of the store. The news are on, but the TV is on mute. She can only read the banner: First case of COVID-19 confirmed in Boise.

She wonders if they should be worried about this. But surely, one case wasn’t something to cause a big deal over, was it? And Boise was still a couple hours away from Polis. Her mind wanders to Harper, working in one of the biggest hospitals in the city. She gets a strange sense of foreboding.

Murphy chooses that moment to pull aside the curtain to his dressing room, and Luna stops him with a finger poised in the air in warning. “I don’t want to hear it. It has black, you should be happy.”

He clearly has an opinion about his costume (no surprise there), which aside from the standard black pants, consists of a long-sleeved shirt in the same dusty rose as Raven’s costume, only the ombre starts at just below his biceps and fades to black at the wrists. He should be happy, Raven thinks. There’s not a single crystal on that shirt.

“It’s pink,” he says.

“It’s rose,” Raven says. “And dare I say, it really does wonders for your complexion.”

He rolls his eyes at her before turning to Luna. He doesn’t even have to say anything and their coach is already shaking her head. The decision was final.

Murphy lets out a long-suffering sigh. He glances over at her, eyes roving over her body. "They're right, by the way. I may look like a pansy, but you look..." 

Raven feels her chest constrict, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

But he doesn't. He just nods, a mysterious small smile on his lips. 

They head back into the changing room to get into their normal clothes, and afterward, Luna tells them they are free to wander the small store in search of something they liked for their short program. She tells Raven she trusts her judgment, and to send her a picture of what she ends up picking for the both of them. She had to run to her sons’ school to pick one of the twins up for a dentist appointment.

“I’m leaving it in your hands,” she says, and then leans in to whisper, “He’ll put up a fight for show, but I’m 100% convinced he’ll wear whatever you tell him to.”

We’ll see, Raven thinks. Murphy casually looks through the designer magazines showcasing examples of what they could order that is not on the rack. A dress on the wall catches her eye and she wanders over to it. Made in a deep rich blood-red chiffon, the costume reminds Raven of her mom’s favorite shade of lipstick. The one-shoulder design is appealing, and aside from a thin band of crystals at the waist, it is devoid of the usual glitz for some of the more loud costumes.

The attendant immediately scurries over. “We could pair that skating dress with this,” she says, flipping through a catalogue. She points to an almost all-black men’s costume, with a stripe of the same red running down one arm and around the band collar.

Raven looks back to the dress on the wall, and can see the picture so clearly in her head; the way her skirt will flutter in the air to the melancholy piano and heart-rending vocals of “As the World Caves in,” by Matt Maltese — the song Luna chose for their short program.

“That’s perfect.”

* * *

Raven has started to hold her breath when Murphy twirls her around his body, a precursor to him tossing her in the air in front of him as she pivots her body to aid the barrel roll. If she breathes, she’s scared she will mess up with the sequence. By holding her breath, it’s almost like she can control her body’s movements better, like she can focus on just Murphy’s hands keeping her suspended in the air.

When he rolls his sleeves up, she can his veins straining with effort during the maneuvers. It’s comforting, in a way, to know that this is a new frontier they are crossing together.

“Watch that foot Murphy,” Luna calls when he sets her down and they launch into a set of side-by-side butterfly jumps. From there, they transition into sit spin combination, rising into a hop before another sit spin. It’s a sequence that hurts Raven’s quads more than hell itself.

Murphy takes her hand and they skate backward on the ice. Luna’s pick for their free skate is the Eden Project rendition of “Crazy in Love,” and it was like she took that song title and ran with it. Their showstopping moment comes in the form of an extra long lift, with Murphy lifting her up in lasso, and then moving his left hand to grip hers when she shifts her body to the side, legs bent at an artful angle as Murphy skates a half-victory lap around the ice. Without putting her down, they change to a hip lift, with her hand holding on to his shoulder and his on her hip as they spin on the ice.

The dismount is what makes Raven the most nervous, with Murphy flipping her around so she lands gracefully on her skates.

That’s another moment where she holds her breath, her heart jolting every time he places her down on the ice.

“Raven, you’re supposed to be smiling,” Luna calls, and Raven adjusts her facial features accordingly.

They end their routine with her skating away from Murphy, who pulls her to him by her outstretched leg, and they perform a close-hold sit spin, springing up one last time with flourish, and ending with Murphy at her knees, her hands cupping his face.

She helps to pull him up to standing once the music cuts off, and he wraps his arm around her shoulders, tired from the morning practices. They still have their off-ice work to do too.

Luna hands them their skate guards and they heave onto a nearby bleacher after putting them on.

“How do you feel?” she asks them.

“I think you’re trying to kill us,” Murphy says.

“On the contrary. For this being the third time you rehearse the back half of the program, I think you’re doing pretty well. The beginning is pretty simple — a twist lift, side-by-side triple lutzes, a throw triple salchow.”

Murphy exhales sharply, wiping his sweat away with a towel. “Oh is that all?”

Luna smiles softly at him, a rare peek into how fond she actually is of him. She takes a seat beside him on the bleacher. “Nothing you can’t handle. Once the judges see your new routines at Skate America, your ISU ranking is going to go up. I’m positive it will.”

Raven doesn’t doubt the confidence Luna has on them, but it is a little daunting. Especially, when she looks over at their training partners run their own free skate with music. They had a few rough weeks, with Worlds being canceled due to the COVID-19 virus that seems to be spreading quicker around the world. Octavia had been absolutely _crushed_ and Raven’s heart hurts for her. She counts herself lucky that Four Continents happened last month, and that she and Murphy returned to the U.S. safely.

Clarke and Bellamy execute a discouragingly perfect throw double axel, a move Luna doesn’t miss either. She chews on the inside of her cheek and with only a moments hesitation, ushers them into the training room.

By the time she shuffles into the outfitters, absolutely exhausted from this morning’s practice, she is ready for the day to end. The soreness has not yet set in, but it will — Raven can feel it in the tightness of her hamstrings and calves, and not to mention her arms. She can only picture how Murphy feels.

The shop is slower than most March mornings. Save for a few customers, not a lot of people come in. That’s strange, as usually skiers and snowboarders tried to get the most of out of the last couple of days of the winter season. The snow will begin to melt in a couple more weeks, give or take a day or two.

Sometime after noon, Sinclair scares the living daylight out of her when he bursts out from his office. He waves her in and she sees he’s watching the governor speak live on his laptop.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re fucked,” he mutters, and Raven is shocked by his verbiage. He wasn’t one to curse. “They’re issuing a stay-at-home order because of the virus.”

Raven hears him, but still finds herself asking, “What do you mean a stay-at-home order?”

He motions to the screen, and she listens as the governor outlines what will and won’t be allowed. Her heart falls to the pit of her stomach when he says all recreational facilities will close.

“The resort,” she says to herself. “They’re going to have to close the rink. And us, we’re not essential.”

When they mention bars, she thinks of Murphy. His job…

She almost can’t believe what is happening. But the signs were also there, plain for her to see. So in a way, she’s not that surprised.

“Well, it’s only for 21 days,” she says. “That’s not too bad.” She needs to think through this rationally. So what if she won’t be able to practice for three weeks at the rink, or that the shop will be closed too. Three weeks was doable.

She tries to push the thought that she will be totally alone for those 21 days out of her mind.

“I don’t mean to scare you,” Sinclair says slowly, “but I don’t think we’ll be back in 21 days. COVID-19 has overwhelmed hospitals in China. Unfortunately, I think it’s only a matter of time before we find ourselves in the same position.”

Sinclair was never one to sugarcoat things. The rational part of her brain knows he’s right.

But for now, she’s going to keep telling herself it’s only for 21 days.

* * *

Polis never had much variety when it came to grocery stores. Aside from the Albertsons by Murphy’s apartment, there is only a small market in the small downtown that sells overpriced groceries to tourists. In her desperation to find groceries — namely toilet paper — she spends two hours hitting up both stores and every gas station convenience store before giving up.

She has a four-pack at home, so the situation isn’t dire yet, but it would have been nice to at least have found another four-pack. Living in a small mountain town had its benefits, but right now, the speed at which supplies flew off the shelf was a major drawback.

Still, she managed to score a couple gallons of water, bread, fruits and other groceries to keep her going for the next three weeks. She’s in the middle of putting all those away when she hears a sharp knock at her door.

She peeks through the peephole to see Murphy, carrying a duffle bag on his shoulder.

“Murphy,” she says as she opens the door. “What are you doing here?”

She sidesteps to let him in and he drops his duffle bag on her couch. “You have a guest bedroom, right?” At her bewildered look, he shrugs. “Look, if I have to quarantine in my house for 21 days alone, I may just have a mental breakdown. The voices, you know,” he says, gesturing to his head.

“That’s not funny,” she says. “Why didn’t you call to let me know? You know, given me a heads up.”

“I _did_ call. You didn’t answer.”

“Freeloader,” she says, and with that one word, he knows she’s letting him stay. As if there had ever been any other option.

Murphy holds up a finger. “Now, before you go hurling accusations, I do come bearing supplies.” He leaves out the front door, and when he returns, he’s holding a pack of six toilet rolls, along with a couple other bags of groceries. He should’ve made two trips, she thinks.

Raven can’t help but laugh when he brandishes the toilet paper like an offering at her feet. “How in the world did you manage to find that? I looked everywhere.”

“Luck and pure stealth,” Murphy replies. “I saw a lady with not one, not two, but t _hree_ packs of Charmin. I stole one out of her cart when she wasn’t looking and hightailed it all the way to the cashier.”

Of course he did. “You would,” she says.

“It’s called having enterprise, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby,” she says with a vehement shake of her head. “Just put away the groceries. I’ll go get your room ready.”

He’ll be staying in what used to be her mom’s room, and while Raven keeps it clean, she didn’t prepare for someone to be staying in it anytime soon. She grabs her vacuum and gives it a once-over, and changes the sheets to a clean new set, which happen to be the spare ones from her own bedroom. She gets a funny feeling at the thought that Murphy will be sleeping in them, a white set with tiny little rosettes.

Raven prepares a quick couple of grilled chicken sandwiches for dinner, and after eating they have a quick FaceTime call with Luna, who agrees it’s probably a good idea for them to quarantine together.

“We don’t know what the restrictions will be moving forward,” she tells them. “But having you two as a ‘household’ might help with getting us back on the rink quicker.”

She asks them to stay in touch frequently, and let her know if they need anything. As their coach, she also encourages them to keep practicing their routines without skates so as not to lose all the progress they’ve made in the last few weeks.

"And for the love of god," she pleads, "don't do anything stupid."

She's looking at Murphy when she says this.

* * *

_April 2020_

Raven is used to spending hours upon hours with Murphy.

Hell, she even knows what it’s like to share a bed with him, how he likes to sleep on his right side, hand tucked underneath his pillow. She knows how he takes his coffee — all black, and preferably always in her favorite mug, just to bug her. She knows how his hands feel when they’re lifting her up in her living room, as they try to keep up with their training regimen as much as possible despite the circumstances. She knows he takes long evening showers, and long morning showers, so much so that she worries about her water bill.

She knows John Murphy. More so now that they’re living together, but still, nothing could have prepared her for what 24 hours a day, seven days a week with him would do to her.

There are habits about him that have always annoyed her, like how he spoils his appetite by snacking all the damn time, or again, when he steals her favorite coffee mug. But lately, the one that bugs her the most is how often he prances about her townhouse half-naked.

She gets it, they’re comfortable around each other, but would it hurt him to put on a shirt? It doesn’t matter what activity she’s doing — washing dishes, folding laundry, doing yoga in the living room — he’s always there, his bare chest a tease that drives her crazy, and even more so when he’s working out in her yard, the muscles in his back, arms and legs rippling in the late afternoon light while he does a series of burpees in the grass.

Raven grits her teeth and tries to focus on her downward dog. As if she didn’t purposely angle her yoga mat so she could stare out the glass sliding doors.

In the first couple of days, she told herself these urges were because she was stressed due to the world’s situation at the moment, that she was feeling the onslaught of cabin fever combined with a five month streak of going cold turkey. She and Shaw might’ve been awful together, and the sex was subpar, but at least it was something.

But as much as she tried to kid herself, the truth was that even if going out and hooking up with someone was an option, she wouldn’t do that either.

Raven isn’t ready to accept what that means.

The sliding doors open, and Murphy steps inside. She decides to continue as if she wasn’t just thinking of jumping his bones, shifting into dolphin pose. From this position, she can’t see Murphy’s face, but she can see that his feet are still standing where they were a second ago.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she says.

“Sorry,” he says, sounding flustered. She lifts her head off the mat and sees a flush creeping up his neck. He drapes his towel over one bare shoulder, and awkwardly heads into the kitchen.

A few seconds later, she hears him clear his throat as he opens her freezer. “Did you want to run our programs again? We still have some daylight, and it’s beautiful outside.” There’s a few clinks of ice hitting glass. Did she forget to put the gallon of water in the fridge?

She drops down to her knees and looks over at him, leaning over her kitchen counter with his glass of water. “I’m disgusting right now. Luna sent over a barre routine to make up for our lost lessons. I'm trying to stretch so I don't hurt like hell tomorrow.”

He shrugs. “Your call. It just seems like a shame to be indoors right now.”

“It is a stay-at- _home_ order,” she points out, rising to her feet to roll up her mat. “And we’re in a pandemic.”

Murphy’s face twists in displeasure. She worried more about cabin fever for Murphy than she did for herself, if she was being honest. Without skating, he seemed to be going stir-crazy.

Raven kind of knew the feeling. The year she “retired” after Finn, was one of the most confusing times of her life. It seems silly, or maybe frivolous, to think that a sport could _be_ your life, especially when taking into consideration their current circumstance, but when she stopped skating… Raven had felt so lost. Who was she without skating? Who did she want to be? Was she enough without it?

She wonders if that’s what Murphy is experiencing now. But, it’s only been 10 days. Already, it feels like they have been quarantining for much longer.

Raven hops out of the shower and changes into her pajamas, a pair of comfortable knit shorts and an old sweater. She’s surprised to not hear the downstairs shower running, instead finding Murphy sitting outside in her old patio set with a book in his hands, the porch lights bathing him in a yellow light.

He jolts when he hears the sliding door open, and he guiltily holds up the photo album. “Sorry, got curious. I found it in the nightstand in your guest room.”

Raven would recognize the brown leather cover anywhere. She pushes back a wayward strand of hair and sits besides him, folding her legs underneath her. “Where did you leave off?”

He takes that as a sign she’s not mad and opens the album again. He points to a photo of Raven, 12 years old, a bronze medal around her neck. She’s smiling tightlipped, forced.

“That was my last competition as a single skater,” she says. “My mom was… not happy. Thought I was giving it all up to skate with ‘some boy.’”

“Finn,” Murphy says and she nods.

“She worried. Always thought pair skating was really dangerous. Of course, it didn’t help that my mother did not have an ounce of trust for the male species.”

“So safe to say, she wouldn’t have liked me then?”

“Instant dislike for anyone with a penis, sorry,” she says, and inwardly cringes. The last thing she wants to think about right now is Murphy’s penis.

He cracks a smile. “She wasn’t wrong — about it being dangerous. You should see some of the training tapes I have back home of my parents. My mom had this scar on her chin, tiny — like a little half moon — from one time my dad stumbled on the ice with her in his arms. She slid onto the ice belly first, and hit her chin. Had to get seven stitches, at least according to my grandparents.”

Raven cards her fingers through her loose hair, absentmindedly feeling for her own scar. Seven stitches sounds like a walk in the park.

“I’ve seen competition videos of your parents,” she says. “They were really something.”

Murphy shrugs. “They were Olympians.” He continues looking through her photo album, coming up to a photo of a teenaged Raven, probably 14, with her mom. “God, you look just like her.”

“Yep, her little mini-me.”

He laughs at the next image, one of her and Finn at their first competition. He has braces and the worst Justin Bieber haircut of the times. She’s not looking much better; that was the year she thought bangs were a good idea. “Okay, let’s move on,” she says, flipping the page. He grabs hold of her hand, and she’s struck with how natural it feels, for him to hold it as he peruses the page.

A gesture of friendship, she says to herself. Just friends. Friends did this all the time.

She gently slips her hand out of his and points to another photo, this one of her and her mom at the hospital, Raven’s face splotchy with tears. “Stage 4 liver cancer,” she says. “We found out that day, and she made the nurse take this picture. She said she didn’t know how long she had left.”

Murphy looks at her, and she can feel his sympathy when he places his hand on her knee. He doesn’t have to say anything.

“I got two years, so I can’t complain,” she says, mustering up a smile.

This is the perfect time, she thinks, for him to talk about his parents. But she doesn’t want to have to force it out of him, or draw it out with questions. So when he doesn’t, instead closing the album and putting it in her hands, she lets it go.

* * *

Raven is bored. Out of her mind, bored.

For the past two weeks, she and Murphy have watched movies, exercised, practiced their programs and just all around tried to keep as busy as possible within the confines of her townhome — though Murphy had gone on a few runs out in the neighborhood, and she had also taken a few walks just for fresh air.

The days are starting to blur and calling it cabin fever would be an understatement.

And to make a bad situation worse, living in close confines has only further increased her desire. It didn’t matter what Murphy was doing, she was to the point that even watching him toss laundry into the washer sent a spike of warmth flooding into her core.

Five more days, she tells herself. Five more days and then the stay-at-home order expires. Though judging by the news, COVID had only gotten worse since the governor issued the order. People just couldn’t manage to stay home, and now that the CDC was recommending they wear masks in public, couldn’t even manage to do that either.

While she and Murphy hadn’t needed them yet, she did pull out her mom’s trusty old sewing machine, the one she used to make all her costumes on, and managed to sew a pair out of some plain black cotton and elastic she ordered online. They weren't perfect, but they were something.

So while the stay-at-home order is slated to expire in just a few days, and maybe she and Murphy will finally get back to skating and the overwhelming want for him will go away, she’s pretty sure the virus isn’t going anywhere.

This isn’t something she tells Murphy, who’s felt more anxious than she has about returning to the rink. Also his job. He was furloughed the day after all bars were closed. Raven didn't fare much better, as Sinclair just couldn't continue paying her while the shop was closed. He felt terrible about, but she understood.

Raven counts herself lucky when she considers her only major inconvenience during this pandemic is how damn horny she is.

She finishes folding her laundry and heads downstairs, expecting to see Murphy on the couch watching TV or even napping — he’d been doing a lot of that lately, especially in the late afternoon.

The house is eerily quiet though, and she wonders if he went out for a run without telling her. Not that he was obligated to inform her of his whereabouts all the time, but he always let her know when he was leaving the house for fresh air. Hell, he’d even tell her when he was going to step out into the yard for a bit.

She tiptoes to the guest room, knocking softly in case he was sleeping. When he doesn’t answer, she opens the door.

Murphy’s back is to her, but she can clearly see his hand pumping the length of penis, short pants escaping his rigid body. The image burns itself into her brain, and she grips the doorknob tightly, warmth spreading through her body. She knows the decent thing would be to leave, but in the microsecond she takes to hesitate, Murphy looks over his shoulder and immediately stops, reaching for a pillow to cover himself.

“Raven, what the fuck?” he says, and she flees, closing the door behind her. In the living room, she runs her fingers through her hair. Shock, embarrassment and want course through her, all very confusing and god, she’s mortified. Absolutely mortified.

Murphy exits the bedroom after a couple minutes, now fully dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt. He doesn’t avoid her gaze, though she definitely is avoiding his.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, opening and closing her mouth as she searches for something else to say.

Murphy scratches at the back of his neck, surprisingly calm about the whole ordeal. “Next time, maybe just knock?” She looks to see him smiling awkwardly at her. “You know, so you don’t get an eyeful of something you don’t want to see.”

How wrong he was. She could have stood there for hours watching him, and god, in her mother's room. Did that make her a pervert? Yep, definitely did.

“I did knock,” she says with a light snort. “I thought you were sleeping. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, really. I probably should have more… self-control.”

Raven doesn’t know what to say to that, not when she’s struggling with her own lately. Murphy bobs his head, and biting his lip, he signals to the guest room. “I’m gonna go now. Yeah.”

“Okay,” she says, still looking at the floor. He disappears into the bedroom and she sighs. “Fuck.”

* * *

They walk on eggshells around each other for the next two days. Raven tries to spend as much time as possible in her room, keeping her mind occupied with Netflix shows. Not that anything will top the atrocious masterpiece that was Tiger King. She and Murphy binged it within a couple days, and she wishes they hadn’t. Maybe if they still had a few episodes, they could stand to be in the same room with each other for more than a few minutes.

The air between them feels so heavy, and she’s not even sure why. They should be able to laugh it off — that’s Murphy's thing, that and deflect with sarcasm, and she hates that she’s missed his stupid little jokes these 48 hours.

She hears the clattering of pans coming from downstairs, and Raven sits up in bed. It wasn’t time for dinner, and technically, it was her night to cook. For the past half-hour, she's heard sounds coming from downstairs, and she decides it's high time to go investigate.

From her vantage point at the top of the stairs, the whole thing looks like a disaster.

“What are you doing?” Raven says, taking one stair down at a time. Her kitchen is a mess, and she inwardly winces, thinking about the deep clean she’d done while avoiding him the day before, and now virtually every surface of the small space is covered in flour and dirty dishes.

Murphy ducks his head underneath the hanging cabinets. “I’m making bread,” he says. “Apparently, it’s the trendy thing to do during quarantine.” He proceeds to knead a giant blob of dough on her counter. It’s the most he’s said to her since the events of the other day, and Raven feels herself relax enough to be annoyed. Somehow, that came naturally when Murphy was around.

Raven pinches the bridge of her nose, coming around the side of the kitchen to better observe how much she’ll have to clean up after him. “I didn’t know you were a baker.”

“Discovering new hobbies every day,” he says. “Trying to keep my hands busy.” He smiles at her, clearly pleased at his own joke.

“Ha ha,” she says. “Did you wash your hands?”

“I don’t think you want me to answer that,” he says and she raises her eyebrows. “Kidding. Of course I washed my hands.”

She hates to say it, but she doesn’t have much faith in his baking skills. Sure, he could cook a good meal, but that wasn’t always synonymous with having a well-rounded culinary aptitude.

He gestures to the general area of the living room with his chin. “You left your phone downstairs. Someone called like two minutes ago. I didn’t pick up because…” he holds his hands up, covered in sticky dough.

Looking at the disaster in the kitchen is only going to stress her out. She is glad they’re talking again though, and if sacrificing her kitchen was the means to do so, then so be it. She leaves him to his breadmaking, and goes to grab her phone off the coffee table. The missed call was from Harper.

Having not heard from her much since the beginning of quarantine, Raven immediately dials her back.

She’s been worried about her. She can’t imagine what it’s like to work in health care right now, and much less in Boise. Because of Idaho’s population compared to places like New York or Miami, the hospitals aren’t feeling the burden yet. Everything on the news is optimistic, but Raven would rather hear that from her friend rather than a high-ranking hospital official.

Harper answers on the third ring, and Raven is glad to hear her voice hasn’t lost its usual pep.

She hurries back upstairs to her room for privacy, all the while asking her about how she’s doing. Harper reassures her that everything so far, is going fine. The hospital is busy, but not that far from usual.

“You have enough PPE?” Raven asks, sitting crisscrossed on her bed.

Harper lets out an audible sigh. “Yes and no. We have enough supplies, but at least over at my hospital, they’re being stingy with it. As nurses, we get an N95, face shield and protective gowns, but a lot of the other hospital staff doesn’t. And we’re all expected to reuse the ppe as many times as possible. I’ve been wearing the same N95 all week.”

That seems absurd, and dangerous. “That’s bullshit.”

“Yeah… But it is what it is. I’m more worried about Monty anyway. They’re not giving paramedics N95s, and they should be.”

Of course Harper, being on the front lines, would be most worried about him instead.

“Anyways,” she continues, “as long as everyone stays home and social distances, we should all be fine. You guys especially — without the resort open, I can’t imagine there’s many tourists in Polis.”

Raven can’t confirm for sure, since she hasn’t gone into town since the stay-at-home order was called, but Harper is probably right. Take all the tourists away and Polis became a small town straight out of a Hallmark movie. Most of the locals that lived around here worked at the resort, or worked in an industry or business adjacent to tourism. She guesses a lot people are now out of a job.

“Speaking of social distancing,” Harper says, “how’s quarantining with Murphy?”

“Um… It’s good. Yeah, it’s going well. He’s a… Uh. Good roomie.” She grimaces at how terrible of an answer that was, and Harper snorts on the other end.

“That was as convincing as you telling me my sixth grade bob cut looked cute.”

Raven presses a fist to her forehead. Out of respect for Murphy, she doesn’t want to tell her about the other day. That’s something that can stay between them, even though she knows Harper would never say anything. Still, Raven doesn’t want to even go there. Watching him jerk off wasn’t the root of the problem, and she knows that now.

Fuck it, she’s been thinking about it all week. She might as well say it out loud.

“I really want to fuck him,” she whispers, glancing at her closed bedroom door. Maybe she should continue this conversation somewhere farther away, she thinks as Harper laughs —fucking laughs — and decides to go to the bathroom. Firmly shutting the door behind her, she sits at the edge of her bathtub. “It’s not funny. I don’t know what to do. Every time I look at his stupid face I just want to jump him.”

“So why don’t you?”

“Harper, he’s my skating partner,” she says. God knows how well that worked out for her last time, though comparing Murphy and Finn was unfair in of itself. “And he’s… my best friend. I don’t ever want to jeopardize that because I can’t control myself.”

“Right.”

Harper doesn’t say much beyond that, and Raven would kill to know what she was thinking. Obviously, she had an opinion, she could tell by the way she drew out the word. The silence is killing her and she feels the need to fill it with words.

“Whatever, it’s fine,” Raven says quickly. “This will pass. It’s just because he’s here living with me.”

This time, Harper sighs. “You know… I don’t like to tell people how they feel, but you’ve always been a little blind, or maybe even dismissive, to your own feelings. So I hate to tell you that I don’t think this is going to pass. You _like_ him.”

Raven furrows her brow, and her heart speeds up in her chest. “What are you talking about?”

“You have feelings for Murphy. Have had for a while, probably while you were dating Sean—”

“Shaw,” Raven corrects.

“Same difference. See? I don’t even remember your ex’s name because you _never_ talked about him. And before you say that’s because Murphy’s your skating partner, and you spend a lot of time together, explain to me why I know Murphy’s grandparents live in Utah? Or why I know he has the entire Rasputin Just Dance routine memorized? Or why he hangs up all his clothes to dry in the bathroom?”

“It’s because you _told_ me all those things,” Harper continues. “Because you talk about him, _all the time_.”

Raven looks down to her lap, suddenly feeling an urge to cry. The tears well up in her eyes, and she screws them shut. “I guess… I guess you’re right.” She sniffles, and Harper apologizes. “No, it’s fine. I’m just processing.”

The silence stretches as Harper allows her time to compose herself. Now, she’s even more terrified.

“I’m so fucking screwed,” she whispers.

“What are you scared of?”

Raven laughs mirthlessly. What was there _not_ to be scared of? But, it all boiled down to one thing.

“I don’t want to lose everything,” she says. A ruined partnership, a ruined friendship, ruined trust. She’s been there before, and with Murphy, it would hurt 10 times more.

“Well,” Harper says slowly. “What if he could _be_ your everything?”

* * *

For a long time after she hangs up the phone, Raven sits on the floor of her bathroom, her head resting against the side of her bathtub.

There were two paths ahead of her.

She could continue life as normal, pushing her feelings aside for the sake of not having the risk to lose him. Or, she could take the plunge.

She might fuck everything up, but at least she’d know. That’s what bothers her most about the path of least resistance, so to speak — that she’ll never know if she made the right decision. At least if she tried, she could say she took a chance on something that could’ve been great.

Like she did when she accepted Luna’s offer two years ago. She had been scared then, but she still showed up to the skating rink because of the possibility of returning to a sport she dearly loved. And to date, that has been the best decision she’s ever made.

Harper told her to trust her gut, and go for it if it felt right. But Raven has never really been a good judge of that when it comes to dating. Everything with Murphy always felt right.

She ends up taking a long soak in her bathtub, and it’s only as she’s halfway through shaving her legs that she realized she had made up her mind the second she picked up the razor.

After toweling off, she puts on a lacy set of red lingerie, one she hasn’t worn in ages, but always gave her a confidence boost. She needs that more than ever, because if she has her way, she’ll get the answer to her question tonight. If it goes haywire…. Well, they’ll have five more days of quarantine to hash everything out, or so she hopes.

She throws on a black silk sleep romper and adjusts it so the red lace of her bra is visible from the low neckline. She dabs the smallest bit of perfume behind her ear and tosses most of her hair to one side. It seems ridiculous to put on makeup, but since she was already going all out, she puts on concealer under her eyes and adds a bit of mascara.

Walking down the stairs, she is so nervous, her hand is shaking on the handrail. Deep breaths, she tells herself.

Murphy hears her before he sees her.

“Great timing,” he says. “I am literally about to take the bread out of the…” his words trail off as his eyes land on her, roving her body up and down. He swallows hard. “Out of the oven.” He averts his eyes, suddenly very interested in putting on his oven mitts. “Is that… Is that new?” he stammers.

“You like it?”

She has to give it to him — the kitchen smells amazing, and he’s cleaned up his mess. He takes the bread out of the oven and places it on the empty stovetop. “It’s… it’s very nice.”

At this point, Raven is standing right beside him. She can see the flush extend from the collar of his white shirt –look at that, for once he was clothed — to the tip of his ear, shining a bright cherry red.

He seems to be having an internal struggle, and Raven reaches over to turn off the oven for him.

“You okay?” she asks, unable to hold back a small laugh.

He steels himself and looks her in the eye. “Is this payback? Because let me tell you, whatever—”

She doesn’t let him finish his sentence, choosing instead to close the distance between them and bring her lips to his. She kisses him, hard and quick, pulling back after a mere second to scan his eyes, bewildered and searching hers in turn. “It’s not payback”

She kisses him again, and when he doesn’t respond, she thinks she’s gone ahead and ruined everything. But it’s almost like it took him a second to comprehend the situation, because suddenly, he’s everywhere — his lips fight hers for dominance, and he walks her until her ass backs up to a counter.

He tastes better than she could have imagined, and lately, she’s been imagining it a lot. Like honeydew and something headier, akin to a spice she can’t put her finger on. She always thought Murphy’s sweat, on most days, carried an undertone of something like cardamom.

He lifts her up onto the edge of the counter, and she has to drape her body over at an angle to avoid the hanging cabinets. At the same time, she opens her mouth against his, and he takes that as an invitation to deepen the kiss, his fingers digging into her thigh as she rakes her fingers through his hair.

The world could disappear around them, could burst into flames, and Raven wouldn’t care.

His wandering mouth draws a path down the side of her neck. He pushes the strap of her romper and bra down to kiss her bare shoulder, and back up to the sensitive spot near the back of her neck.

“I want you,” she says.

His eyes look impossibly blue in the harsh yellow lighting of her kitchen. “Are you sure?” he says.

She nods firmly, and because she needs to hear it, needs to know she’s not dreaming, she asks, “Do you want me?”

His face splits in a wolfish grin and he kisses her, open-mouthed and filthy, in a way that makes her toes curl and has her more than ready for what comes next. “Now’s not the time for stupid questions, Reyes,” he says, teasing her, lips a millimeter away from hers.

He lifts her off the counter and carries her upstairs at a speed that has her bouncing against him with every step. He drops her onto her bed, her chest heaving as she watches him close the door. He tosses his shirt onto the floor and crawls on top of her, seizing her mouth once again. She lets her hands roam his bare chest, the one she’s been ogling for weeks.

She’s spent two years touching him, but tonight feels like she’s exploring his body for the first time, like she’s rediscovering all the muscles in his back and arms, no matter how much force they’ve exerted in carrying her.

She pulls her romper off her, and Murphy curses when he sees what’s underneath.

“You really were a woman on a mission tonight, weren’t you?” he fingers the strap of her bra, letting it snap back against her skin.

She allows herself to bask in his attention. “I know how to press your buttons.”

“That you do.”

He wastes no more time in undressing her, and she’s just as eager as him, eager to feel his bare chest on hers, and for him to be inside her. She can feel him pressing against her inner thigh, and while his mouth concentrates on her breasts — something Raven never thought she was into but suddenly reduces her to a squirming mess — his hips dig into the mattress, seeking release.

When they finally shed the rest of their clothes, Murphy begins to make his way down her body, kissing her sternum and scorching a trail she swears he’s tattooed on her skin. He reaches her core, and she bucks her hips against his mouth, hands fisting the comforter. “Murphy,” she breathes.

He leaves her boneless, a release that comes easily, much too for his ego. She signals to the nightstand. “Condom,” she says.

He wipes his chin with his thumb, and she closes her eyes, forever dedicating that moment to her memory. “You sure you don’t need a minute?”

“ _Now_ , Murphy”

He chuckles, and does as she asks. She hears him tear the packet, and looks over to see him roll it onto his length.

It feels like an eon later when he rolls on top of her, and she widens her legs to accommodate him. She can feel him at her entrance, and if he asks her if she’s sure or ready one more time…

He maintains eye contact as he slides inside, intense and intimate, her mouth forming an O as he stretches her to accommodate him. His pupils are blown, brow furrowed in concentration. He doesn’t bottom out, not yet, she’s not ready for that still. He moans, dropping his head to her shoulder, and it doesn’t surprise her he’s vocal.

He rocks into her, each time a little deeper, and she rakes his fingers across his back. “Yes,” she says, reduced to a vocabulary of single syllables. “More.”

He hikes one of her legs higher on his hip, and a moan escapes her lips as he hits that spot inside her.

Despite his efforts, he still comes first, and that seems to frustrate him, but Raven could care less. She chases away the frown with her lips.

“It’s been a while,” he says, rolling off her. “Sorry. I can get you off.” He brings his hand down, but Raven pulls it back up, pressing a kiss to the inside of his wrist instead.

“Can you just hold me?”

There are a lot of emotions coursing through her, including the realization that they really just did… _that_. And that it didn’t feel like the first time. Raven’s never been a superstitious person, or one to believe in fate, but she can’t come up with another explanation for how that felt.

Murphy’s eyes soften. “Always,” he whispers, in a rare moment of vulnerability. She scoots closer, laying her head on his chest, still rising and falling from their exertion. She can hear his heartbeat, a steady rhythm that fills the rests in her own.

When their stomachs rumble, hungry for something other than each other, they get half-dressed and head downstairs. Dressed in his T-shirt, she watches as he slices his bread, and places it in front of her. He has a certain confidence to his step now, and he can’t stop looking over at her and smiling. Something tells her he’s going to be insufferably cocky these next few days, but she doesn’t mind.

The bread is good too. But not as good as when Murphy carries her back up the stairs and makes love to her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might have noticed the chapter count has gone up. 2020 is a long year and it begged to be told in three parts. 
> 
> But yay for quarantine pushing Murven together!


	7. 2020: Part III

_Still April 2020_

The sun is warm on her back as Murphy flips her over his shoulder, lifting her up by her underarms. He spins, and at the end of the second revolution, puts her down gently on the grass, where they launch into the next bit of choreography.

This is the middle chunk of their free skate, and since the stay-at-home order was extended until the end of the month, they’ve been having daily video calls with Luna to continue their training. It’s not half as effective as being on the ice, but it’s something.

Should the quarantine have happened a couple months ago, perhaps they could have practiced at the pond at Bardo Park, but with the weather warming up, that’s not an option at this point. Raven wipes the sweat from her brow and places her hands on her hips when Luna interrupts them. They come closer to her laptop screen, to better hear their coach.

“How was that?” Murphy asks in between pants.

“Better.” Luna says. “Hold on one sec.”

Off-screen, they hear one of her sons ask her for help completing a math problem. “Okay, sweetie, give me a minute okay? I’ll be right there.” With a hand on her temple, she apologizes. At-home learning has become the bane of Luna's existence, and Raven doesn't know how she finds time to coach them every day. Her twins were a handful.

“Where were we? Oh yes,” she says. “Show me your twist lift.”

Raven nods and backs up from the screen. Murphy follows her, and adjusts her position with a casual hand on her hip. “Ready?” he whispers, his hand trailing lightly down the side of her upper thigh before coming back up to her waist at her nod of assurance.

She places her right leg slightly underneath him, in preparation for the jump. They crouch together and he launches her into the air. That moment of flight, where she’s slicing through the air like a torpedo — that’s why this has become one of her favorite elements. That, and she knows without a doubt that Murphy will catch her.

His hands grip her waist and bring her back down to the grass, letting out an appreciative whistle.

“How’s that for height, coach?” he says.

Luna nods. “Very good. I’m curious as to how that will translate onto the ice.”

Twenty-seven days away from the rink. Tomorrow, it’ll officially be four weeks since the last time she put on a pair of ice skates. It’s the longest Murphy told her he’s ever spent without practicing, including the times he was injured, though those haven’t been many. It’s the female counterparts in pair skating that often suffer the worst injuries, so she’s not surprised.

However, to not be injured and be away from the ice rink feels odd.

“Any idea as to when that will be?” Murphy asks. “Do you think they’ll extend the quarantine order into May?”

Luna shrugs helplessly. “I wish I knew. But the situation—”

“Is fluid,” Murphy interrupts, parroting the same phrase they’ve heard on the news for the past few weeks. He sighs. “Got it.”

They hear her son come back, and she apologizes again, even though they tell her it’s fine. “Let’s just end here for today,” she says. “Good work guys.”

Raven ends the Zoom call and closes her laptop, balanced precariously on a stack of books on top of her outdoor loveseat. Instantly, Murphy pulls her to him by her hips, and starts kissing the side of her neck. She smiles, reaching back to run her fingers through his hair.

“We’re sweaty,” she says, and he hums against her skin.

“In that case, I think a shower is in order,” he says, sweeping her off her feet into a bridal carry, sending her into a fit of laughter in his hurry to get them inside.

These last few days have been better than she could have ever imagined. She knew they worked together, as partners and friends, and that should have clued her in to how well they could work beyond that. Sure, Murphy drove her absolutely crazy some — most — of the time, but something just clicked between them.

It was easy. Raven had never had that before.

He kisses her underneath the shower stream like it’s both the first and last time. Before him, she’d stopped placing that much interest, or importance, on kissing, not when you could skip right ahead to sex, but Murphy revels in it. He takes his time, languid kisses that reduce her to a needy mess in his arms. That makes a world of difference, that he’s not in a rush, even if she might be.

He also doesn’t treat it as a precursor. Raven has never been with someone who is content with just kissing. Shaw definitely had other things in mind, and frankly, Finn wasn’t a great kisser to begin with, so she often was happy to bypass it entirely. But no matter how hard he was against her thigh, sometimes Murphy just wanted to kiss her.

They exit the shower when their hands are wrinkled with moisture. She’s drying her hair at her bathroom sink when Murphy strides over, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved black tee.

He rubs at a spot on her neck, midway between her jaw and collarbone. Raven knows he’s examining the bruise he sucked onto her skin last night, one Raven is glad she noticed in the mirror before their Zoom call with Luna, giving enough time to cover it up with makeup. They weren’t ready to have that conversation with Luna yet.

“Vampire,” she teases.

He brings his lips to the bruise. “You just taste so sweet,” he says.

Such a line, she thinks. She eyes his outfit, which after seeing him in mainly in sweatpants for the last month, is quite a sight. Has his ass always looked this good in jeans? “Where are you going?”

He scratches at the stubble on the side of his jaw. “We need food. Unless you plan on eating oatmeal and protein powder for the remainder of quarantine.”

It was true that their groceries were running low. She chews on the inside of her cheek. “Do you want me to come with you?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. It’s probably better that only one of us goes. Plus, I have to stop by my apartment. I didn’t exactly pack to stay here for over a month.”

“Okay.” She pulls him to her by the loop of his jeans. “Hurry back,” she whispers before kissing him.

He goes in for another kiss, and she smiles against his mouth. “Nope, you gotta go,” she says, knowing full well if they keep going this way, he’ll never make it to the grocery store.

After he leaves, Raven notices how silent her house is. It’s funny; she had been accustomed to living on her own for so long, but in just a few weeks, she’d almost forgotten what it felt like to have a house to yourself, to not hear someone walking around downstairs, or the TV running while she finished getting dressed.

There were several conversations they still likely needed to have. Since that night, it’s not that she’s avoided the topic of the status of their relationship, but they’ve been enjoying discovering what being with one another was like.

She’s never enjoyed the “so what are we?” conversation, not with Finn and definitely not with Shaw. With Finn, the line between when things became romantic and when they were “official” was very definitive, only because they were so young and they both thought kissing each other made them boyfriend and girlfriend. In contrast, with Shaw she skirted around the conversation until he bluntly asked her how she would like him to introduce her to people.

He threw out the word girlfriend and she had nodded. That was it.

With Murphy that conversation seems important. She doesn’t think he’s under the impression that they’re just having fun together, but for the sake of their partnership, they should lay everything out on the table. At some point. Not today.

If he only wanted to hook up with her… Well, she’d be willing to accept that. It would be a punch to the gut, but she was a big girl. If she wanted to continue having sex with him, knowing it wouldn’t amount to more, that was a decision she was allowed to make.

She rolls the term fuck buddies around in her brain as she vacuums the main floor. It feels wrong just thinking it. Harper’s voice echoes in her mind — _it’s because you like him!_

When Murphy gets back from the store, her overthinking has manifested into a deep clean of her fridge. With the counter space being taken up by the fridge’s drawers and shelves, she points to the rarely used dining table. “You can put the bags down there,” she tells him while wiping down a shelf.

“I leave for an hour and you turn into Mr. Clean,” Murphy remarks drily.

“It’s called being productive,” she replies. “You should try it sometime.”

He only smirks. “No thanks. I much prefer leaving the productivity to you.”

He makes a few more trips to the car and back, depositing a slew of bags on the counter. Bananas, cereal, chicken, bread and a bag of jolly ranchers are the first few items she spots. If she knows him at all, she bets there’s some chocolate hiding in one of the bags too.

She watches as he sits down on the couch, kicking off his boots and making himself at home.

She clears her throat. “You know, if you want to make yourself useful—”

“Just said I didn’t, but OK.”

“Can you please toss our sheets into the washer?”

She screws her eyes shut when she realizes what she just said, but it’s too late. Murphy’s smile widens.

“Sure.” He says, rising to his feet. “But, I warn you, they’re just going to get dirty again.”

She can’t help but shake her head at his presumptuousness. She watches him go up the stairs, his packed duffle bag over one shoulder. Perhaps it was time she empty a drawer for him, rather than have him live out of that bag.

For all his talk about not helping, he does return to help her put all the shelves and drawers back in the fridge after she finishes wiping them down. He sticks around after too, and they put the groceries away in comfortable silence, broken only when she asks him how he found the store to be.

“A lot of empty shelves,” he says. “Not for food, but there’s no Lysol anywhere. There’s limits on toilet paper and paper towels too.”

She raises an eyebrow. They were truly living in an alternate reality, it felt like. Strange enough that the thing that feels most normal to her right now is sleeping with Murphy.

* * *

A few days later, Raven gets a text from Luna. It’s late afternoon, hours past their daily training session with her, and she usually doesn’t check in until the next morning, being busy enough with the twins’ schooling, so when Raven sees her message, she reaches for her phone on the coffee table. She and Murphy are spooning, for lack of a better word, on her couch, though he’s long fallen asleep during the NASA documentary she chose for them to watch.

She smiles when she reads the message.

_Your interview is up on the U.S. Figure Skating YouTube Channel._

Luna’s included a link to the video, titled “Five Things – Raven Reyes and John Murphy.”

The text bubble appears again, and Raven almost laughs at the next message. She can hear Luna saying this to them as if she were standing in her living room.

_Next time, both of you need to sit up. Team USA doesn’t slouch._

Another blue bubble appears. This time, Raven winces.

_And tell Murphy to keep his hands to himself._

Raven pauses the documentary and clicks on the link. She remembers the context of the interview like it happened yesterday. They were asked to list four facts about themselves, and the fifth had to be about their partner. What she doesn't remember is Murphy having his hands all over her.

As always, Raven cringes a little bit at seeing herself on screen. The palpable excitement of being part of Team USA for Four Continents was still fresh at the time of the recording, having done the interview just hours after the announcement, and it’s evident in her answers. Her first fun fact is that Four Continents will be her first international competition. Her next three answers are par for the course — she mentions how she started pair skating at 12 years old, her interest in mechanics, and for some reason, she also feels compelled to mention her aversion to mustard. Even that one catches Murphy off-guard in the video.

Murphy lists his four facts in quick succession, counting off with his fingers.

_“I won my first gold junior pairs medal at 15 years old. I once skated to the Sponge Bob theme song during an ice show.” Raven laughs at this, and he places his free hand on the inside of her knee. “I have a terrible habit of eating fast food, and I took five years of tap dancing as a kid.”_

Raven remembers being shocked at this, because he’d never mentioned it before. You can see it in the way she turns to him in the video, laughter once again bubbling from her lips. She wondered if they would edit this bit out, but apparently they decided to keep it.

_“You what?” she asks, eyebrows skyrocketing up her forehead._

_“I’m not going to show you,” he says, resolute, and shakes his head to the camera to drive the point home. “I don’t care if you drive me crazy over it. It’s not happening.”_

_Raven turns to the camera. “I don’t drive him crazy.”_

_“It’s okay, I like it. In fact, that will be my fun fact about you — You are extremely gifted at driving me insane. It’s all in good fun though,” he reassures, patting her inner thigh, just above her knee. “We have fun on the ice, for sure.”_

_“Well, in that case, my fun fact about you is that you spend 90% of the time annoying me.”_

_“What’s the other 10%?” he ask, turning to her in genuine curiosity._

_“You actually practicing.”_

_Murphy laughs, and wraps an arm behind her chair. He gives a salute to the camera as she thanks people for watching, the video ending with a shot of them looking cozy at best._

“What a clusterfuck,” Murphy says from behind her, and she cranes her head to look at him.

“You’re awake?”

“I caught the latter half,” he says with a yawn. “I think it’s safe to say there are people who definitely think we're fucking. Check the comments."

She scrolls down but sees they've been disabled. Odd. 

She sets her phone down on the coffee table. “Luna told me to tell you to keep your hands to yourself." 

He chuckles, looping his arms around her body, his forearm resting just below her collarbone. “Well she's not here right now."

She hums, momentarily distracted by the way he’s drawing circles with his fingers on her shoulder.

“It’s so obvious,” he says.

“What is?”

“How badly I wanted you.” She snorts at this, but he doesn’t waver. “I’m serious. Like a moth to a goddamn flame. No wonder Luna…” he trails off.

Raven lifts her head to look at him, shifting her body to face him on the narrow couch. “Luna what?”

He doesn’t want to tell her, and that only further fires her need to know. She stares at him expectantly.

“She might’ve told me to cool it. Thought I was…” He sighs. “Putting our partnership in jeopardy.”

“Luna doesn’t know about Seoul, does she?”

Murphy shakes his head. “I didn’t tell her. Did you?” Raven shakes her head. “She would’ve thought we were having sex. She was already upset about us sharing a room.”

This is all news to Raven. Luna hadn’t told her any of this back then. “Did she say anything to you about that?”

“Her exact words, and I quote, were ‘For the love of God, don’t fuck Raven.’”

She lets that sink in. The thought that he might have been thinking about that embeds itself into her brain. 

“Did you want to?” she asks. “Fuck me in Seoul, I mean.”

Murphy breathes out a laugh. “Sleeping beside you every single night, with your little shorts and nipples poking through your tank top, knowing I couldn’t _touch_ you, that I _shouldn’t_ touch you.” He exhales, causing gooseflesh to appear on her skin. “When I think of hell, I think of that.”

“I think I wanted you to fuck me,” she says.

“Even back then?”

“Probably even before.”

He swallows, like this bit of information bothers him in a way. “How long?’

She wishes she had an answer for him. “I don’t know.”

“While you were dating Shaw?”

“Possibly.”

He runs his tongue over his teeth, seeming agitated. Maybe for the lost time, or maybe for some reason she can’t understand yet. Shaw’s name always brought forth a visceral reaction in Murphy, and perhaps it was stronger now that he'd been inside her. Men's brains worked differently in that way, she supposes.

She turns precariously on the couch, and presses her lips to his. He kisses her back, sighing against her mouth in a way that lights her nerve endings on fire.

“I have a confession,” Murphy says in between kissing her.

“Yeah? What is it?”

He kisses her one last time, and then pulls away enough so that he is able to lift the hem of her tee over the side of her ribs. He runs his finger over the exposed skin. “You remember when we were practicing our first twists lifts as a pair?”

Raven nods.

“Don’t be mad,” he says. “But sometimes, I grabbed you a little harder than I knew I should. It’s fucked up, but I was hoping to…”

He bites at his lip, eyes entranced on her bare skin. No more bruises there, but Raven remembers the many weeks she spent walking around with imprints of his hands.

“I wanted him to see,” Murphy says. “When he got you naked, when you were in his bed, I wanted him to see that my fingers — my hands — had touched you first.”

Her heart jumps in her chest, and the thought that he wanted to mark her, is both sexy and a little overwhelming. But in a way, that was Murphy. He was someone who, when it came down to it, put 100% of himself into things and people that he cared about. He was overwhelming, and in a good way.

“Possessive,” she says. “I’m kind of into it.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah?”

She nods. “I guess that means I’m stuck with you, huh?”

“For as long as you want me,” he says. It’s a rare moment of vulnerability, and Raven doesn’t overlook it.

She kisses him. “I do. I want you.”

* * *

_May 2020_

The governor lifts the stay-at-home order at the end of April. Raven’s not surprised, but judging by the rising number of cases in Idaho, albeit not rising as rapidly as other states, the quarantine didn’t stop people from spreading COVID around. It makes Raven wary, when she goes to the grocery store or picks up take-out for her and Murphy.

She always knew she lived in a conservative state, but would it kill anyone to wear a mask? She’s frustrated, and it’s purely from a selfish standpoint — she realizes that wholeheartedly. She’s dying to get back to the ice rink, and to get back to work.

But that won’t happen unless the resort is able to open.

She and Murphy tune into a city council meeting on Zoom where Mayor Thelonious Jaha makes a grand speech about needing to work together for the greater good, and while inspiring at face value, it didn’t outline any plans as to how they planned to lead Polis through this crisis.

“It’s a waiting game,” Luna reminds them every day. Today, after their training session, is no exception. “We just have to stay on top of our programs as much as possible.”

Murphy isn’t having it today. He paces around the grass. “A month and a half, Luna. We’ve been off the ice for almost 45 days. If we were able to get back to the rink tomorrow, that will still leave us with five months to perfect two brand new routines for Skate America — _if_ that’s even happening still. But we don’t fucking know if we’ll even be back by July. They have said shit about reopening.”

Raven stands to the side, arms crossed around her body. “He’s right. We’re not making progress this way either.”

“Look, I’m frustrated too, ok? I get it. This all sucks ass.” Luna says. “I would love nothing more than to wake up tomorrow, drop off my kids at school at meet you at the rink. But. We. Can’t. Give. Up.”

It’s easier said than done. It’s hard to stay motivated when skating is starting to seem trivial in the grand scheme of things. She mentions this to Murphy later that afternoon, causally in conversation as she prepares a snack for herself, and his reaction takes her by surprise.

“Don’t say that,” he says.

“I’m just saying—”

“Don’t,” he repeats, and then under his breath, “It’s like fucking déjà vu.”

He storms away from her, leaving her standing along in the kitchen, wondering why the hell that rubbed him the wrong way. He goes for a run, and Raven watches him leave in a huff.

At first, she had been annoyed, and a bit angry. It was a good thing he left the house, because she would have said things she regretted. The longer she simmered on it, the more sense it made to her. So much so, that by the time Murphy returns from his run, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and cheeks ruddy with exertion, she offers him a cold glass of water as a peace offering.

He takes it, panting his thanks to her as he recollects himself.

She waits until his breathing evens out to address their spat, and dives right to the heart of what she believes to be the issue.

“You know I’m not going anywhere, right? That I’m fully committed.”

Murphy rolls his shoulders and sets the now empty glass on the kitchen counter. “I know. But you can’t say stuff like that to me.”

“I’m not Emori,” Raven states point-blank. “When I say that skating feels ‘trivial,’ it’s not because I don’t care. The circumstances are very different. People are _dying_.”

“I know that.” He rubs at his forehead. “Are we done?”

Raven furrows her brows. “No we’re not done.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation.”

“Too bad. We’re having it.”

He sighs, heaving himself down onto one of her bar stool. He gestures vaguely in the air with his hands. “What exactly do you want me to say?”

“Sorry would be a start.” She snorts, turning on the kitchen faucet to start on the small pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

“I’m sorry.” 

She scrubs at a plate with her sponge. “I want to be back at the rink, just like you do. I want to practice our programs, and I want to go back to helping tourists find the best damn trail on the mountain. Hell, I want to go back to paying a fortune to go to the movies and watch whatever animated remake you are adamant on seeing.”

She places the clean plate on a drying rack, and starts on the next. “I want to go on a date with you. A real date, where we go to a restaurant we’ve never been to before, and sit in a crowded dining room with strangers, and not have to worry about anything other than how we’re going to tell our coach about us.”

Raven hears him rise from the bar stool, and she soon feels his hands on her hips, his head coming to a rest on her shoulder.

“When I said skating feels ‘trivial,” she says, repeating herself, “I meant it in a general term. I didn’t mean skating with _you_ felt that way. Nothing about you will ever feel trivial.”

He spins her around and embraces her, disregarding the wet sponge in her hand that soaks his shirt. A lost cause anyway, he was drenched in sweat.

Murphy runs his thumb over her bottom lip. “I’m sorry," he repeats.

This time it feels genuine.

* * *

A few nights later, she wakes up from a late afternoon nap to find Murphy isn’t beside her in bed, as he had been when she fell asleep. The sky is dark outside, and she checks her phone for the time: 7:13 p.m. She’s been out for hours.

Raven stretches, and in doing so, her hand hits a piece of paper laying on the pillow beside her. She squints, struggling to read it in the dark.

_Let’s go on a date._

_—M_

It’s then she registers the faint music coming from downstairs. Classical.

She hops out of bed and makes a beeline for downstairs. At least that’s her intention. She stops at the top of the stairs, her breath leaving her body as she sees what Murphy has planned for her.

He’s dressed up in black slacks and a white button up, and is in her kitchen putting the final touches on the dining room table, decked in rose petals and lit candles — candles everywhere. Despite it not being cold outside, he’s also lit the fireplace and turned off the remainder of the lights, casting the room in a hazy glow.

He smiles when he sees her. “Just in time. Dinner is ready.”

She starts downstairs as he frets about the kitchen. “What is all this?”

“You said you wanted to go on a date. Now, while going somewhere crowded is not a smart move, I thought eating at restaurant _La Maison_ would do. I hear their chef is quite something.”

“Is he now?”

He takes her hand and ushers her to the table, pulling out a chair for her. “I’m not dressed for a date,” she says laughing, looking down at her cotton sleep shorts and oversize T-shirt. She hadn’t even brushed her hair after waking up.

“You look perfect,” he says.

She shakes her head at the cheesy line, but stays put in her chair. A new song starts playing, and Raven recognizes it immediately. “You’re playing Shostakovich.”

Murphy is preparing their plates, and he looks over his shoulder. “That’s your favorite composer, right? Luna always said you loved the Russians.”

She’s never felt as seen as she does in this moment.

Murphy carries on, without knowing how much this already means to her. Her heart feels so big, she worries it’ll burst right out of her chest.

“I wasn’t sure when you’d wake up, so I’ve been playing his stuff for an hour — it’s _dark_. I don’t want to know what was going through that man’s head.”

“He did work under Stalin,” Raven points out.

Murphy makes a face, and places a plate of pasta in front of her. “Spaghetti alla puttanesca. Sort of. I had to make some substitutes.”

“It looks amazing, thank you.”

He’d always been good at making her feel special, and in the most unexpected of times. As she looks at him, the candle light casting a gorgeous shadow over the planes of his face, his eyes crinkling when he laughs during the course of their conversation, she has a moment of clarity.

He catches her looking at him, maybe for a second too long. “What?” he says. “Do I have sauce on my face?”

Raven shakes her head, a soft smile playing on her lips. “I just feel like the luckiest girl in the world right now.”

She’s falling in love with him, and fast.

* * *

_June 2020_

Though the days drag on, their routine and day-to-day activities blending until Raven can’t remember whether it’s Wednesday or Thursday, news seems to arrive in rapid-fire speeds.

For days, she’s been glued to the coverage of the aftermath of George Floyd’s murder, and the subsequent protests that have broken out across the U.S. She watches people, regardless of the color of their skin, hold up signs and hold the broken justice system accountable. It’s a beautiful and tragic thing, she thinks, as she looks as the contrast of her olive skin against Murphy’s alabaster complexion. 

Dante Wallace’s death comes as a surprise. The resort owner was up there in age, but from the report she reads in her local newspaper, he was perfectly healthy. He died the way many wished to go — In his sleep.

Raven is sitting on her couch on her phone, Murphy’s head in her lap as she runs her hands through his too-long hair, when the news of the resort breaks. The first half isn’t surprising. Cage will take over the resort, and Raven thinks back to her brief encounter with him last year, suppressing a shudder.

But she is taken aback when the article reveals Cage plans to reopen the resort in exactly one week. He outlined the plan to the press, promising all CDC guidelines will be followed and that they will be operating at 50% capacity for the summer season. He's quoted as celebrating the return of tourism, and subsequently, the ability to give people their jobs back. 

She wakes Murphy up and shows him the article, and she can see the exact moment it clicks in his brain that they could be on the ice in seven days. He sits up from her lap and pulls her to him, kissing her soundly.

“Finally, some good news,” he says.

“A man is dead,” she says. “And now a creep is in charge.”

“Dante Wallace was like 100 years old. And we won’t see Cage anyway.” His bright eyes search hers, hands on either side of her face. “Reyes, we get to _skate_.”

She is excited but… “Why do I feel guilty?”

“Because you’re a better person than I am,” he says, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “And the world is hurting, and that makes you hurt too. But you know, you’re allowed to be happy.” He touches his forehead against hers. “I give you permission to be selfish.”

“As if I need your permission to do anything,” she quips.

“Exactly. So do what you want,” he says with a lingering kiss. “Be fucking happy. There’s enough shit in the world.”

“Is that your way of telling me to make the most of what we have?” It’s not the greatest pep talk he’s ever given her, but she’ll give him a pass. They are living in a pandemic.

“You could say that.”

Happiness seems so relative. For someone halfway across the world, getting enough food to eat denotes their happiness. Raven has never forgotten how blessed she is, to be able to chase her dream and live a comfortable life, despite the hardships she’s endured that somehow in the grand scheme of life, feel minute at best. Even losing her mom, when she equates it to Murphy losing his parents, feels like a whisper in a noisy room.

Murphy has a faraway look in his eyes, but before she can probe him about that, he shakes his head with a carefully crafted smile. “You ready for Luna?”

“You think she’ll be able to tell right away?” Raven asks. They’ve been pretty good during their Zoom rehearsals at keeping their hands at bay. Raven doesn’t notice a difference in their partnership dynamic between now and a few months ago. Maybe that says something in of itself.

“Without a doubt. The woman has X-ray vision.”

She lays back on the couch with a groan as she covers her face with her hands. “We’re going to get an earful, aren’t we?”

“Eh, probably not,” he says, and she peeks at him through her fingers. “You’re forgetting — Luna married her former partner.”

“So why have we been keeping it from her in the first place?”

He tugs her feet over his lap, running his hand up and down her calf. “Maybe I just wanted you to myself for a while. I am pretty selfish.”

He wasn’t. He could tell himself that over and over, but Raven knows better. He cared about others a lot deeper than he liked to admit.

* * *

Returning to the rink feels surreal.

Raven let Murphy drive, her body still heavy with sleep after forgetting what it was like to wake up at 4:30 a.m. She and Murphy forced themselves to stock up on protein at breakfast, knowing the first few days of being back will be the hardest.

Driving up the mountain, with the sun barely beginning to make itself known, Raven feels nervous. So does Murphy. He hardly says a word.

When they walk inside, matching black masks over their noses — new ones, better suited to stay on their faces than Raven’s handmade ones — she gets the oddest feeling course through her. The arena’s echo as their feet carry them into the rink feels foreign, but the chill and smell of the freshly-resurfaced ice is as familiar as seeing an old friend.

Luna is already waiting for them inside. She’s smiling, even through her own mask, brown eyes crinkled in the corners. Bellamy, Clarke and Octavia are also here, warming up by their respective coaches. Octavia flashes a rock-and-roll hand salute their way as they walk by her.

“We’re back, bitches,” she says.

It’s a homecoming alright.

And a quiet one, at that. There’s no other skaters around. Rare, even for a 6 a.m. start time.

“Is this it?” Raven asks Luna as they lace up their skates.

“Reduced capacity,” she answers with a shrug. “Not the worst thing to happen.”

Getting on the ice is a dream. Raven closes her eyes at the sensation, at the sound of her skates slicing the surface. She skids to a stop in the middle of the rink.

Murphy skates circles around her, and she can see he wants to touch her, wants to wrap his hands around her hips and spin her around. But he resists the urge for now, and they get to work.

There’s a lot of falling. That was to be expected. Her muscles need to remember what it’s like to jump on her skates again, and she hopes they do so quickly. A warm Epsom salt bath will be in order tonight.

She wonders if she can convince Murphy to join her.

This is what she’s thinking about as they take off their skates after three hours on the ice. They have an hour of off-ice training next, and the next wave of skaters are starting to trickle in.

When she looks up, she sees that Luna is eyeing them carefully.

"Something’s different between you two,” she says.

Raven exchanges a look with Murphy, who takes a deep breath. He clears his throat, and balances his elbows on his knees as he leans forward, hands clasped.

“I didn’t do anything stupid,” he says. “In case you were wondering.”

“But something did happen,” Luna presses.

Raven reaches for Murphy’s hand and they interlace their fingers.

“I see,” their coach says drily. 

They let her stew on this for a few seconds, watching as she chews on the inside of her cheek. After a beat, she sighs. “Well I can’t say I didn’t see this coming. At least you won’t have to fake the chemistry for the judges. Not that you ever had to.”

Raven doesn’t know if she’s mad at them or resigned, but she’s getting both vibes simultaneously, and she grimaces when Luna curses under her breath. That was never a good sign.

“You know, I can’t even berate you about getting involved with yet another partner,” she tells Murphy. “But God, am I annoyed.”

She tells them she’ll meet them at the training room, and Murphy whistles when she storms off. “It’ll be fine,” he reassures Raven. “She just needs time to cool off. She’s upset with me, not you.”

“That’s not fair,” Raven says. “It wasn’t you that jumped me in the kitchen that night.”

Murphy rises to his feet, and holds his hand out to her. “It’s fine,” he repeats. She begrudgingly lets him lead her out of the rink, and they pass in front of Bellamy and Clarke, who don’t miss their clasped hands. They look at each other, wide-eyed with their momentary surprise. Bellamy gives Murphy a thumbs up, so at least they know they have their friends support.

They hadn’t meant to keep their relationship a secret; but like had said weeks ago, it had been nice to have something that was only theirs during a time where the world universally felt out of control.

Luna takes a long time to meet them in the training room, and when she does, she walks in with the silent threat of a cobra, proceeding to pace in front of them with her arms crossed.

“One job,” she tells them. “You have one job and that’s skate your goddamn asses off.”

“And we will, OK?” Murphy says. “That hasn’t changed. Did it change when Emori and I started dating?”

It rubs Raven the wrong way that he brings his ex up, though he’s doing it to make his point. Still, she doesn’t like feeling like this is history repeating itself with Murphy. It makes her feel less than, and their relationship less meaningful. She’s never liked being compared, and her annoyance only grows when Luna is the one to sort of call him out on it.

“Raven is not Emori, John, and you know that,” Luna says. Raven is also left wondering what the hell that means.

“That’s not what I was getting at,” Murphy argues. “I know they’re not the same person.”

“Do you? Because here we are again.”

“Stop,” Raven says. “Stop talking about me as if I’m not a part of this at all.”

Luna reels herself in and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Raven. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I want you both to be happy, and quite frankly, a part of me saw this coming. But that doesn’t change the fact that you two being involved, in whatever you’re involved — I really don’t want details — has the potential to complicate everything.”

As much as it bothers Raven, she knows Luna has a point. If things with Murphy went south, their dynamic on the ice would suffer as a result. It happened with Finn. But as a result, Raven already knows the signs to watch out for, and more so, she hopes her friendship with Murphy is strong enough to withstand anything.

Luna stops pacing and takes a seat on a bench.

“I really need you both on top of your A-game for the next two years. So if you can guarantee me that, no matter what, I’m still gonna have to top-notch skaters in this rink come hell or high water, then fine.” Luna throws her hands up. “Who am I to get in the way of love? But I can tell you right now, knowing your personalities, if this goes haywire, we’re fucking done. Goodbye Beijing. Is that a gamble you are willing to take?”

She’s really asking how serious they were about each other. Raven decides to guard her heart a little, and wait to see what Murphy says. The thought strikes her that maybe she isn’t as sure as she was a few minutes ago.

But Murphy is.

“We’re not going to let you down,” he says firmly, grasping her hand tightly. “And we’re not going to let each other down. We got this.”

Luna isn’t convinced. Words are just that; she’ll have to see it for herself. And so will Raven.

Their coach nods. “Okay then. Let’s get back to work.”

* * *

_August 2020_

Luna is walking them through a step combo when she sees him enter the rink through the corner of her eye.

Raven does a double-take, because at first, she swears her eyes are playing tricks on her. But cruel reality suddenly seeps in, and she averts her eyes from them, interrupting Luna mid-sentence.

“What are _they_ doing here?” she says, lowering her voice.

Murphy looks over. “What the fuck,” he deadpans, and turns back to their coach. “Did you know anything about this?” Luna shakes her head.

Finn, Amber and Diana are striding into the rink as if everyone isn’t stopping what they’re doing to stare at them, as if this was just any regular Tuesday morning practice. They might be wearing masks, but Raven knows Amber is smirking underneath it, can feel it in her bones. Bellamy lowers Clarke down from a hip lift, and they look over to Raven and Murphy, who shrug in response.

Raven launches herself off the rink wall she was previously leaning on and grabs her skate guards from atop it. Murphy reaches for her, but she’s already off the ice and storming over to the new, very much unwelcome guests.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she says, confronting them midway.

“Always with the theatrics, Raven,” Diana says, sounding bored.

She ignores her, and at this point, Luna and Murphy have caught up to them. Murphy puts a hand on her elbow, but she hardly feels it. Her focus is on Finn.

“You and I need to have a conversation,” she says. “Now.”

Murphy starts to follow them, and she shakes her head, stopping him in his tracks. Finn follows her out into the lobby, the doors of the rink swinging behind them. She spins on her heel and waits for him to explain himself, to give her a reason why he would come back here, of all the places he could skate.

“You’re blowing this out of proportion,” he says. "I knew you'd do this."

No, she won’t let him do that. “Excuse me for not wanting to share the ice with the guy who cracked my head open.”

“You need to let that go,” he says. “Seriously, for your own mental health—”

“Don’t tell me what I need to do,” she says, her voice spiking and catching the attention of the security guard. She forces herself to regain her composure.

“Raven, I don't know why we're back to this. You fell. It’s as simple as that. And it’s not a crime for me to return to the rink I also grew up in, or did you already forget?” He scoffs, breaking his stony demeanor. “I’m sensing there’s a lot of hurt from your part you haven’t gotten over, and you’re going to have to do something about that, because I'm not going anywhere.”

“You’re unbelievable,” she says. “Why would you do this yourself? Do you really want to see me every day? Do you not have an ounce of shame?”

For a split second, she can see the Finn she used to know. His brows furrow, and eyes soften — he used to look at her with such kindness, once upon a time. He exhales softly. “Look, our rink in Boise hasn’t opened. We need to prepare for our season too, you know? Unlike you, we don’t have a bye to Nationals.”

In the end, it’s always been about skating and she finds she’s run out of her sympathy quota for the day, maybe the week.

“Boo hoo,” she says.

* * *

Murphy gets home earlier than she does these days. Bars haven’t reopened, and he honestly hasn’t moved much to find a new job, not while he could still reap benefits from being on unemployment.

Raven went back to work at the Outfitters a few days after they returned in the rink last month, but business has been slow. As of now, she’s the only employee Sinclair has brought back. He agonizes over that daily — that and the fact that his plans for the second store are now at a standstill.

She tries to make his life a little easier while she’s working, picking up extra tasks that he doesn’t ask her to do and sometimes, staying a little later than she’s scheduled. But today, after seeing Finn, she’s afraid she’s being more of a burden.

Raven spends her whole lunch break venting to him, probably speaking in nonsensical ways at time, but only because she’s so upset. Sinclair is patient with her, always has been, and sympathizes with her as best as he can.

“I never liked that boy,” Sinclair says. “He has some nerve coming back here after what he did to you.” He tosses his papers aside on the desk with a sigh. “How’d that boyfriend of yours take it?”

“Murphy’s not happy, but it’s not like we own the rink.”

He pats her on the back. “At least with masks on, you only have to see half of their faces.”

She snorts. This is Sinclair’s way of sympathizing.

“To be honest, I kind of feel bad for her — his partner, Amber. I’m sure Diana made her lots of lofty promises and here they are, right back where Finn started.”

It’s the kind of full-circle journey that you don’t celebrate. He’s come back after three failed seasons. The last time he had gone to Nationals had been with her. She wishes she could stay angry at him, but maybe his punishment will be to watch her go farther than he ever could.

The smell of pine-sol hits her when she opens the door to her townhouse. She finds Murphy, asleep on the couch, the vacuum still hooked up to the far wall. She can hear a load of laundry running in the background.

She closes the door softly behind her, not wanting to wake him. But he must have not been that deep asleep, since his eyes flutter open at the sound. He stretches out on the couch, and she drops her backpack by the door beside her skating suitcase.

Raven collapses into Murphy’s waiting arms, laying on top of him on the couch. She tosses her ponytail over one shoulder and sighs into his shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

She nods, her chin rubbing against his skin. “I’m just frustrated. I knew I’d have to see him at competitions, but… the rink feels mine again, you know? It took so long for me to feel that way, like I belong.”

“I talked to Luna,” he says, and she pulls her head up to meet his eyes. “I asked her to talk to Diana about us not training at the same time.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, hating that it’s become such a big deal, that in hindsight, she’s given Finn the satisfaction of showing him just how much he bothered her.

He shifts underneath her, searching for a more comfortable position. “I did. I don’t trust Finn.”

“What? You think he’s going to steal our routines.” She snorts at what she perceives to be a ridiculous thought. As if he and Amber could attempt the lifts in their programs for the next competition season.

“I just don’t want him skating around us,” he says. “Call it a gut feeling. Makes me wary.”

Raven hums in agreement. Finn could deny it all he wanted, but she’s sure that he dropped her on purpose. She hates that he won’t admit it. If he owned up to it, she’d have more respect for him. If only she had proof.

Murphy clears his throat, bringing her back to the present. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah? What’s up?” She guessed by the clean house he was trying to get her in a good mood. 

He scratches at the back of his head, face contorted in a nervous grimace. Odd, she thinks.

“So… My lease is up in October,” he says. Not what she was expecting him to say. “I need to make a decision to renew, or…”

“Don’t,” she says. “Don’t renew it.”

“No?”

“No.”

He nods and then laughs. “OK,” he says, eyes drifting down to her lips. “Are you sure you don’t need to think about it? This is your house.”

“I’m sure,” she affirms. Her heart is beating a million miles in her chest. “I’m so sure.”

She pulls him to her, closing the distance between their lips.

She realizes then how much she wants him, needs him even. It’s been a stressful, confusing day, and she wishes for nothing more than to disconnect from the world a bit, to just be here in the moment and celebrate their decision to make their living situation a permanent one. The question of Murphy’s apartment had lingered in her mind for a while, not knowing when the “quarantine” would be over and he would return to his own place. Having an answer for that felt liberating.

She sits up so that she’s straddling him, and tears off her work shirt before leaning down to kiss him again.

Murphy rises up to meet her, and she runs her hands through his bare chest. His hands snake around her back to unclasp her bra, tossing it on the floor without a second thought. He lets out a guttural groan when she rakes her teeth over the sensitive spot on his neck, her hands working at the waistband of his sweatpants.

Over the last few months, she has mapped every tendon, every fiber of muscle in his lean body with her tongue. She knows what drives him crazy, and what has him bucking up underneath her. It makes her feel powerful, and on the days that Murphy lets her have his way with him, she thrives on the sounds he makes, knowing that they’re all because of her — for her.

She rides him with a hand to his sternum, holding him down while she takes what she needs from him. His hands hold hers in place. His eyes, pupils blown wide, never leave hers. A reminder, if she even needed one, that he could flip the tables anytime he wanted.

“I’m close,” she says, angling her hips so that he hit that spot inside her. He is too, she can tell by his uneven breathing, and tension in his forehead as he tries to hold off. His hand snakes in between them, and he circles her center with his thumb.

She comes with silent sigh, and Murphy curses, her inner walls squeezing him in the process. His back arches as he finishes. Head lolling back on the couch armrest, she feels him grow soft inside her.

The last thing she wants to do is move, but if she doesn’t, she won’t for a long time. She pulls herself up and removes the condom of him, taking it with her to dispose in the downstairs bathroom where she goes to pee and clean herself off.

He’s dosing by the time she returns, and she can’t help but look at him, naked, relaxed, sated, and totally hers.

* * *

_October 2020_

Raven adjusts her face mask. When she picked out her short program costume, she didn’t factor in the mask. In its matching blood red color, if they ever came out with a version of "The Handmaid’s Tale on Ice," well... she had the perfect costume. At least she doesn’t have to wear it while actually skating.

She’s sitting near Clarke during a break, both in their short program costumes watching as Octavia runs her program for Skate America in a few days. Only O could pull off a routine set to an EDM mashup of “In the Hall of the Mountain King.” And wearing a black leather high-necked skating dress at that. Indra, her new coach, watches intently from the sidelines. 

“I get sweaty just looking at her,” Clarke says.

Octavia’s routine was incredible, with a jump combo of two double axels, and enough spinning choreography to make Raven dizzy.

“She’s determined,” she replies.

Murphy and Bellamy return then, bringing bottles of water for them. Raven thanks Murphy, both of them lowering their face masks so she can give him a quick peck on the lips.

Clarke and Bellamy exchange a glance.

“I don’t think that’s ever going to get old,” Clarke says. “You guys are cute.”

“When you’re not fighting,” Bellamy jests.

“It keeps things hot,” Murphy says, heaving himself down beside Raven on the bleachers.

“You’d be surprised, but we really don’t fight that often,” Raven adds.

“They bicker,” Clarke says to Bellamy, who wraps his arm around her and kisses her temple through his mask.

Off to far side of the bleachers, Raven can see Finn and Amber sitting together. Much to Murphy’s dissatisfaction, Luna was unable to convince Diana to completely switch training times. The best they could agree to was that Amber and Finn would start an hour later, giving them each an hour without having to share the ice.

“You guys are driving to Las Vegas next week?” Bellamy asks.

Murphy nods. “Figured it would be safer than flying, Luna’s recklessness and all. You?”

“Driving too,” Clarke says. “It’s going to be strange. Skating without an audience.”

“You mean the cardboard cutouts don’t do it for you? I thought about paying to put myself in the front row to be honest.”

He did more than just think about it. Raven had to talk him out of it.

Octavia finishes her routine with her final pose, chest heaving with effort, and they clap. She skates off the ice, looking exhausted as Indra places her skate guards in her hands.

Bellamy and Clarke are next, skating to Lewis Capaldi’s “Bruises.” Clarke’s costume couldn’t be any more different than Octavia’s, delicate in its ivory color. When she spins, her skirt glitters, almost like snow.

Watching them skate is different from watching Octavia. They’re their friends, but there’s always going to be a part of them, the competitive part, that wishes they weren’t so damn good. At the same time, Raven wouldn’t have it any other way.

It’s a challenge.

* * *

With the way Luna drives, you’d think nine hours in the car would fly by in a panic.

Luna is back to treating the way she used to, tough love used to masquerade how much she personally cared for each of them. Raven once worried Luna would take sides between them, if something went wrong, and because of years of loyalty, she would pick Murphy.

She should’ve known Luna wasn’t the kind of person. In fact, because of her longer relationship with Murphy, she tended to be harder on him than she was on Raven.

The reason the trip seems endless has more to do with the snoring human in the backseat also known as her boyfriend, sprawled out without any seatbelts across the three seats. Brave of him to do, with Luna at the wheel.

“He’s knackered,” Luna says quietly, chancing a glance at him through her rearview mirror. The radio is turned down low, a folk ballad playing in the background.

“He doesn’t usually snore,” Ravens says, turning around in her seat a bit to look at him. He’s dead to the world, mouth slightly ajar. With his new shorter haircut, he looks less like a sleeping boy and more like the man he is. Raven really does prefer him with short hair.

Luna hums at that, a smile playing on her lips. “I guess you would know, better than anyone.”

“His lease is up next week,” Raven says. “We talked about it, and we decided he shouldn’t renew it.”

“That’s a big step.”

It was, but just as at the time they made the decision, it didn’t feel scary, or wrong. He’d hardly spent any time in his apartment anyway, and hasn’t spent a night away from her bed since April. Moving in together made sense. That’s why Murphy was so tired; they had spent the better part of yesterday emptying and cleaning his apartment. His favored lawn chair is now sitting in her patio.

“I am proud of you guys,” Luna says. “I know I don’t say that enough but… Really, I am.”

“Even if we give you heartburn sometimes?” Raven replies with a grin.

“Especially because you give me heartburn.” Luna looks over at her quickly. “Murphy needed someone like you. You… You ground him. And you don’t take his shit. It’s no wonder he fell for you.”

Raven shifts in her seat, feeling herself grow warm at the thought. “We haven’t said the words.”

Luna seems surprised at that. “Huh.”

“The whole thing has kind of been a whirlwind since the beginning,” Raven admits. A good whirlwind, but a fast one. “We never even had the ‘Are we exclusive?’ conversation. We kind of just… fell into step.” She lowers her voice, despite Murphy’s soft snoring continuing without pause. “Isn’t that crazy? That we just knew?” she asks. It certainly feels that way.

“It’s not that crazy,” Luna says, her soothing voice smoothing out Raven’s worries. “Some may even call it fate.”

Raven’s eyebrows jump as she rests her head back with a sigh. “Fate. You can’t begin to imagine how many times I’ve thought about that word lately.”

* * *

It’s strange being in Las Vegas and not experiencing all that the city once offered. But part of the trade-off for being able to compete in Skate America is agreeing to U.S. Figure Skating’s “bubble.”

From the minute they arrive at the hotel room, they’re each quarantined in rooms — Luna included. She and Murphy are in one, and her in another, and they were given specific instructions to remain in their rooms. One COVID-19 test later (which Murphy was a little bit of a baby about, eyes watering when the swab was inserted), all they can do is wait until their test results come back so they can be given the green light to officially enter the bubble and be allowed to practice in the arena. Meals were restricted to whatever the hotel offered in their kitchen, and delivered to their door when ready.

With no audience, no contact really with other skaters, and barely any international competitors, this was a Grand Prix event that would be like no other.

While they waited, Raven spoke at length with Harper, who she’s had a tough time getting a hold of lately. They facetimed, and Raven sees the bruises on her friends’ face from wearing the N95 mask all day, and more than ever, she wishes she could be there to hold her, and tell her thank you and apologize for the things she’s seen. It makes Raven feel guilty — that Harper is risking her life, working long hours to save people’s lives, sometimes becoming the last person to speak with them as they take their last shuddering breath — and she’s here. In a hotel room, waiting for a negative test so she could perform in a pretty dress in front of a panel of judges.

“Don’t feel like that,” Harper tells her. “Enjoy it. You’ve earned it.”

“But—”

“But nothing. Let me do my thing, and you go kick ass.”

Their tests results do come back negative, and for the next couple days, they practice long hours on the ice.

On the day of their first skate, the short program, Raven isn’t as nervous as she thought she would be. Maybe it was because of the cardboard cutouts. They really weren’t intimidating, in fact, some are just pictures of people's dogs.

She usually tuned out the audience anyway, so skating to an empty rink isn’t as jarring as she thought it might be.

They hand Luna their masks before heading to the ice, greeting the judges with their choreographed entrance.

For this routine, they face each other, hands held. Matt Maltese’s voice rings in the empty rink, cuing them into motion. She spins a circle around Murphy, her hand on his chest. He takes it and they skate backwards before their first step sequence of the program, a waltz-like close hold twirl that leads them into their twist lift, the lyrics talking about doomsday as she spins in midair.

It’s strange not hearing the applause when Murphy catches her, almost like they’re running the program in practice back home. It’s easier to focus, she finds.

There are elements in the routine that Luna wants to upgrade before Nationals. The side-by-side triple lutzes for one; she believes they can turn those into a jump sequence.

Raven is vaguely aware of the cameras catching their every move, and she makes sure to play that to their advantage, particularly when showing off their new lifts. Murphy hoits her in the air, hands holding her waist as she splits her legs. She has less than a microsecond to straighten in time for Murphy to toss her up and catch her mid-revolution at waist-level.

Her muscles burn, and she’s sure his do too, but it’s nothing compared to their free skate.

Their scores for their short program are encouraging. They’re only a half-point away from Bellamy and Clarke.

Two days later, it’s the moment of truth. Going in they are fully aware, that if all goes well, the gold is theirs for the taking. Bellamy and Clarke got docked a point after he fell in their side-by-side triple toes. That point gives them a window of opportunity. 

Murphy touches her elbow as they stand backstage. “Are you ready?”

He looks handsome in his costume. He hates it, but Raven does think the rose suits him. She wants to kiss him, badly, as if they haven’t gotten enough of each other these last few days. She never feels like she can get enough of him.

She nods in response, and he wraps his arm around her, resting his hand on her hip. It’s no secret now to U.S. Figure Skating that they’re a couple. One of the reporters allowed in the bubble asked them about this yesterday, and it will no doubt become public knowledge soon, if it hasn’t already.

Their names are called and they hand Luna their skating guards and masks before taking the ice.

There’s something about the way he’s holding her hand today. The sureness of it all. They're entering this final routine in the best position possible, so maybe that plays into his confidence. They get into their beginning pose, her body against his and hand on his neck, faces so close they’re almost touching. Something feels perfect about this moment, and no matter what comes next, no matter if she falls during their jumps or if they stumble on the ice, there's one thing she's absolutely sure of. 

“I love you,” she says. If it wasn’t for the silence of the rink, if it was a regular competition, he might not have been able to hear her.

But it wasn’t a regular competition, and he hears her clear as day. He swallows, a breath of laughter escaping his lips. “I wanted to say it first,” he says.

“You snooze, you lose.”

He looks like he wants to kiss her, their lips are so close he probably could. “I love you too,” he says.

The music starts, and they’re off to the races.

* * *

Raven sees the scores flash on the screen, but she still can’t believe it. Murphy pushes his hair back in equal disbelief, all the while Luna congratulates them excitedly.

First place. They fucking did it.

Murphy’s eyes are watering, and she wishes she could pull down his mask and kiss him right there, in the kiss and cry, damn all the cameras watching them. Instead she throws her arms around him, her body shaking.

It had been close. They beat out Bellamy and Clarke by 0.3 points.

“Is this really happening?” Raven asks and Murphy nods, pulling her tight to him. They wave to the cameras in this position, and she can’t wait to watch this back later, to watch their performance and relive every minute.

Bellamy and Clarke are good sports, and they’re lucky to have them as friends. Bellamy claps Murphy in the back and congratulates them, and Clarke hugs her, telling them their win was well-earned.

“We’ll have to step up our game for Nationals,” she says with a wink.

Back in their hotel room, Raven holds her gold medal in her hand, feeling the weight of it against her palm.

They’re exhausted. The free skate was a beast in of itself, but after winning, they spent a couple hours doing interviews with NBC and with U.S. Figure Skating. Tomorrow, they’ll be driving back to Polis, and while she’s still reeling with excitement, she’s also ready to be home.

“We’re going to have to find a place to hang our medals in the house,” she tells Murphy, who’s zipping up his suitcase, having just finished packing everything. She places the medal back in the box and lays it atop her clothes.

“We need a trophy room,” he says.

All her old trophies and medals are in her room, but Murphy’s are still in boxes from his move. They won’t all fit on her dresser.

“That sounds so presumptuous,” she says.

He flops on the bed. “We’re skating champions,” he says and she almost laughs at how ridiculous that sounds. “I want a trophy room, so we should have a trophy room. You did say you loved me, so I’m just saying, that would make me very happy.”

What an opportunist. “Will it now?” she says, a hand on her hip. “And here I thought all you needed was love.”

“I do love you,” he says.

“More than you love this gold medal?” she asks.

He grins, never taking his eyes off her. “I mean, that gold medal is pretty sweet.”

She tosses a pillow at him, and he catches it before it hits his face. Shame.

“I love you,” he repeats. His eyes darken as they rake over her, and she grows warm under his watchful gaze. “Come here.”

She shakes her head defiantly. “Make me.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Reyes,” he says, voice laden in faux warning.

She braces both arms on the bed. “ _Make me.”_

He rises to the challenge. They make love in the messy hotel bed, holding back their moans to spare their coach who is sharing the thin wall next door. She bites Murphy’s shoulder as she comes, and he whispers he loves her again while she rides her high. He hadn't been the first one to say it, but he sure was making up for it.

* * *

_December 2020_

Their choreographer counts them off, and Murphy lifts Raven into the air with one hand, the other behind his back, her body contorted on its side, hand holding her ankle. Murphy glides across the ice, spinning three times before bringing her back down.

Or at least, that’s the choreographed move.

Something happens, and Raven feels Murphy’s hold on her wobble. Spikes of fear blossom in the pit of her stomach, and she holds her breath as the dismount goes haywire. She’s fully anticipating to hit the ice, but she feels Murphy grab her by the waist. They topple backward together, and she lands on top of him with pained huff.

Raven hears the sounds of skates nearby, and she lifts her head from Murphy’s chest to see Finn.

Fury flashes in Murphy’s eyes, and after making sure that she was OK — with Luna and Oleksander doing their best to run across the ice toward them — he lifts her to her feet and sets course for Finn.

“Are you fucking insane?” Murphy’s voice booms in the rink, and everything falls quiet. He skids to a stop a foot away from him. “What part of watch where you’re going do you not understand?”

Raven brushes the ice off her leggings and skates over to them. From the other side of the rink, she sees Diana get on the ice too. Bellamy and Clarke are currently on break, but their attention is fixated on what is developing between Murphy and Finn.

Finn backs up, holding a hand in front of him. “Six feet apart, man.”

Raven places a hand on Murphy’s bicep, in hopes of calming him down.

“Now you want to practice _social distancing?”_ Murphy barks out a bitter, sardonic laugh. “Where was the six feet distance when you cut me off?”

“Cut you off?” Finn scoffs. “We’re sharing the ice. Don’t blame your shaky hold on being distracted.”

Murphy clenches and unclenches his fist, and this time, she does tug him back.

“It’s not worth it,” she tells him. “Come on. _Come on._ ”

It would have worked, had Finn kept his mouth shut.

“That’s a good boy, maybe she’ll teach you how to sit next.”

Murphy bursts out of her hold and that’s when things get out of hand. He launches himself at Finn, throwing the first punch.

Raven and Luna both go to hold him back, and Amber and Diana do the same to Finn, but this is a feat most easily accomplished on any other surface, and not on skates. Luna is doing her best to not slip, and Diana fails and falls on her ass. From across the rink, she sees Bellamy hop the rink wall and speed over to them on his skates.

He helps break them apart, with Diana threatening to bring this all the way up to the Wallaces.

Raven could care less. She’s fixated on the dribble of blood on Murphy’s lip, exposed when he pulls down his mask to swipe at it, clearly in pain.

“Why would you do that?” she asks, wiping at his mouth with the sleeve of her black long-sleeved workout shirt.

They get off the ice, and sit him down on the bleachers. Clarke appears at their side, a Ziploc of snow in hand. Quick thinking. Raven accepts it with a thanks, and places it next to Murphy’s lip, already starting to swell.

“Look at you,” she whispers.

He looks up at Luna, whose hand is pressed to her forehead.

“Good punch,” Oleksander says, giving Murphy a fist bump. “He’s going to have a nice shiner tomorrow morning.”

Raven looks at their choreographer in bewilderment, and shakes her head in disapproval. Murphy sees her expression, but she stops him before he can say anything.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she says. “Don’t give me that look.”

“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

She exhales sharply. “Clearly.” She looks to Luna for help, who shakes her head and sighs.

“He did cut you off,” Luna says to Murphy. “But you can’t react like that. What if we were at Nationals? U.S. Figure Skating would disqualify you, and for what? A pissing contest? Give me a break.”

“I’m not going to apologize,” Murphy says, pushing away the snow pack from his face. Raven sighs and rests it on her lap. “That asshole knew exactly what he was doing—”

“And _you_ should know better,” Luna says. She pinches the bridge of her nose. “I better go talk to Diana and try to smooth this over.”

“Let her take it all the way up to Cage Wallace,” Murphy says. “As if he’s going to do anything.”

“I’d rather not test that theory,” Luna says. “Not with Nationals next month.”

She storms off in the direction of Diana, and one by one, she and Murphy are left alone as Oleksander takes his leave, giving Murphy one final idiotic thumbs up, and Bellamy and Clarke are called back to the ice by their coach.

“That was stupid,” she tells him. “So innately moronic.”

He picks up the snow pack from her lap, wincing as he puts it on his lip. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“You gave him the exact reaction he was looking for. Congratulations.”

Murphy falls silent. She watches Bellamy and Clarke practice their side-by-side triple toe loops. Bellamy falls and their coach makes them do it again. And again.

It’s a good distraction from her current emotions. There’s some anger there, but mostly, she’s irritated that all it took was a little goading from Finn’s part to escalate the situation. Luna was right. Murphy should know better.

The snow starts to melt from the Ziploc, a drop leaking onto Murphy’s wrist.

“I’ll go get you fresh snow,” she says, and begins to rise.

Murphy stops her, his hand on her knee. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” she says. “You’re going to have a swollen lip for Christmas.” The holidays were just a couple days away. Today’s practice should have been a walk in the park.

“I don’t think you realize how badly this could have gone,” he says, voice low and uneven. The bravado now gone, she sees how shaken he is. His eyes meet hers, and the fear she sees creates a knot in her throat. “I was this close,” he says, pinching his thumb and forefinger together, “to dropping you on the ice. Do you realize that?”

“You didn’t though. You caught me.”

“Raven, I had you suspended in a one-handed hip hold. It’s a miracle I was able to catch you, OK?” He puts the ice pack down on the bleacher and twists his body so that he’s straddling the seat. Now fully facing her, he takes her hands in his. “I don’t say this to scare you, but to show you that Finn knew exactly what he was doing. There was no reason for him to be so close to us. Amber was still warming up on the other side.”

She lets this sink in. She didn't see much before the incident, but she trusts Murphy's account. If she had any doubt left about what really happened the day of her fall, she doesn’t anymore. She just wishes she knew why.

How could the boy that once was so kind, so protective of her, so fun and carefree, who held her hand as she cried over her mom, who she at one point gave her whole body and soul to… How could he have turned into this person she doesn’t recognize?

* * *

_New Year’s Eve 2020_

Luna wasn’t able to convince Diana to not bring the fight up to Cage Wallace, but in the end, Murphy was right.

Cage Wallace did jack shit about it.

What he did do, however, is send Raven a personal invite to his New Year’s Eve party.

She eyes the text message in disbelief, showing it to Murphy in the kitchen.

“He would have his annual rager despite the pandemic,” he mutters, flipping the chicken breasts on the stove. He covers the skillet with the lid. “Did you put the champagne in the fridge?”

No, she hadn’t. She reaches into the pantry and pulls out the bottle. “I’ll put it in the freezer so it gets colder faster. Sorry.”

Safe to say, she and Murphy were going to have to respectfully decline. Staying home for New Year’s seems like the safest thing to do, pandemic or no pandemic. This wasn’t a holiday that’s treated them kindly in the past.

They did go to Luna’s for Christmas Eve, per tradition, though Raven decided against going to Sinclair’s the following day for Christmas morning. He was having his wife’s parents over, and though she was pretty sure she and Murphy weren’t sick, Sinclair’s in-laws were up there in age, and she didn’t want to risk it.

She and Murphy spent all day in bed anyway, enjoying the day off to be with each other, in every way that mattered.

This year was the hardest for her in terms of finding him a Christmas present. Last year, she had gotten him a digital photo frame, loaded with photos from Sectionals and practices. That frame now sits on her fireplace mantle, the latter decorated with a popcorn and cranberry garland.

In a last minute stroke of inspiration, she went to the local saddle store in town, and asked them if they had time to do a custom piece. They weren’t jewelers; they mainly catered to the dude ranches on the outskirts of Polis that took tourists on horse riding tours. But a simple bracelet, they could manage, they assured her.

Murphy is wearing it now, a one-inch strip of leather around his wrist. Etched into the hide is “10.24.20” — the day they told each other “I love you,” and the day they won their first gold medal as a pair.

It’s as close to an anniversary they’ll get. Neither of them can remember, nor agree, on when they became official.

She touches her neck, her fingers finding the thin gold chain of the necklace he gave her. On Christmas Day, he made her close her eyes as he put it on her. The charm, a small disc engraved with an infinity sign, rests just above her breasts.

“I got it in Seoul,” he told her. “I don’t know why, but it just spoke to me.”

They eat dinner in front of the fireplace, and Murphy pops the bottle of champagne, the cork flying straight into the ceiling. The champagne could be a little colder, but Raven doesn’t care.

They watch the ball drop in Times Square over TV, and this year, neither hesitate to kiss once the clock hits midnight. And just like that, the never-ending year that was 2020 is over.

“I would say good riddance, but,” Murphy says, brushing her hair behind her ear. “But all things considered…”

“What? It brought me you?” she says, scrunching her nose at the sickly-sweet line. “You can do better than that.”

He chuckles, and she can feel the vibrations in her back. He presses a kiss to the side of her head. “I love you,” he says. “How’s that?”

“It’s better,” she replies, and pulls him in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So all three parts together, the 2020 chapters account for over 30k words in this story, and roughly 67 pages in my word doc. Safe to say, this year was a doozy. 
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me! I hope everyone is staying safe ♥


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